I Am...

I am somebody
who rises to the sun's rays on her face
who is full of the pinkness of morning
the one with the crud in her eyes
and drool on her chin

the one who is overwhelmed
who is never in the mood
for talk, talk, talk
the incessant bombardment
of maniacal ramblings

the one who flinches at propinquity
the sound of heavy breathing
the damp of spit on her cheek

the one who keeps her heart pure
as a greenhouse white rose
her mouth squeaky clean
devoid of vulgarity
or toxic alchemy