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She may know, she may never know. I don’t know. I just write here.

Your particular writing voice,
Your perspective knowing,
Your weary, worldly smile,
Your rose-petal kisses,
Your embrace comforting above all others.

I am the boy
Who cried love
Once too often.
I understand thus
Why you may not
Believe
When I say
I love you
Now and always,
Before and again.
I who loved foolishly
Love true simple basic
Your soul self
Infinitely
Sincerely.

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2 Comments

  1. Ooooo… I really, really like this.

  2. Me too, Patrice … me too …


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