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Potassium


In a morning haze, my mind wandered  
As a friend spoke of potassium,  
Soft metal, easily cut,  
Quick to react when exposed.  
But my thoughts drifted elsewhere,  
To someone close,  
Soft inside, calm on the surface,  
Unmoved by others' words.  
Yet when I speak, he stirs,  
My words like a knife,  
Sometimes making him upset,  
Or setting him off in defense.  
And sometimes I add to his tension,  
Without meaning to.  
I wonder now,  
Am I the knife, or am I the oxygen?  
Our bond is deep,  
But I fear his nature might wear down,  
Still, I hope to keep him whole,  
Away from breaking apart.  

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