Lip’s pucker, brow crumpled downward, then a shy smile side ways,
Later, a glance, a brush of a hand and a slight finch- like nod
Never a word, as quiet as her fair skin
Yet as wild as amber eyes
Speak! Yell! Scream!
Shells can be beautiful
Glisten in a spectrum
Ponderous in pattern
But cannot be consumed
Call it brain food but I cannot be nourished by sight alone
Some need to hear the bones crunch, to taste the marrow of what one is made of
The soul like the body has pulsating flesh, why hide either like
a stunning shell hiding all that makes it that much more special?
Shells are to be left rumbling upon tides
Shells are shelved
or at best worn as a prize.
It’s better to live with a shell than as one.
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