Exist

Two quaint streams fall from the depleting waterfalls of her eyes, caressing the curves of her cheeks. They travel down the ridges of her neck and circle around two majestic, mountainous breasts. The streams trickle slowly into a stagnant pond, ever so exceeding the boundaries of her stomach. The excess stream water falters its way down to her roots, soaking the ground around her. The ground soaks up the remaining water, absolving the fact that she might need it for future cultivation. There will be a day where the streams no longer trickle down the ridges and crevasses of her body. And that is the day that she will learn to exist without