*Copy-changed from Walt Whitman's Song of Myself

I celebrate myself, keeping it to myself,
And what I assume no other shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me belongs to me alone.

I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loaf at my observing the sands of time

Myself, every atom of

I heard the Chorus sing- when I saw him-
For the very first time-
My raging Storm spared me a moment of Sunshine-
Then finding myself staring Longingly-
At something that would Never be.

Love is best served Cold-
At a distance- Stealing futile glances at every opportunity-
For if Warmth were to be present instead-
It would only display- Completely conspicuous upon your Face-
Scarlet like the red of Roses-
Too many a time I tried to love cold.