Multisingularity

Remember when I first told you with the bold intensity that only comes from being certain, that I was a writer; that I don't see with my eyes or heart, but with all my senses, I see in terms of color, when the trees toss outside in a wind that I can't feel against my skin, I feel it in my soul, I feel the sweep of cold air inside me and it makes me smile. Remember when my simple words brought you to your knees, but it wasn't my words that made you call me a goddess; if it were I'd still have you entrapped by my words, and the way I can soften them like the most delicate of rose petals against your skin, or sharpen them like spears that could