She speaks so many languages and none of them have words,
made up instead of signals, chemical signs, and the moon’s clues.
She can whisper lullabies to boulders,
and she is friendliest to moss,
because she can feel it breathe,
there are a million ways to breathe,
and she knows this.
There are bluebirds nesting in her hair,
there are spiders who gave their finest woven work to her,
because she knows that moths,
are just butterflies who were born without their own light,
so instead they chase flames,
just like the rest of us.
She knows that every dew-drop can be an ocean,
depending on whom you ask.
She can grow a forest with a glance,
and trees will lend their leaves to her,
because they know she’ll give them back.
person: whats your sexuality?