You can call me a waterfall,
or a rocket, or a shooting star,
or an eagle, an arrow, or a runner,
but I'd rather be kinetic.
That's when I feel it,
coiled inside, sapphire,
slightly gyroscopic, hot,
trembling like late March.
I see you with burnished eyes,
take you with trembling hands,
lift you up, count you down.
You want me this way.
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