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And the way that your smile curves,
grants me happiness.

We are passionate.

Deep talks over coffee,
erudition how you word your words.

And the way that you talk up beat,
Gives me enough poetry to write.

For hours I feel spiked, interested.
For other women, I truly feel disinterested in.

So I feel pressured not to lose you.
Ten times over, I would choose you.

Deja vu.
Deja Vu.

Somewhere, someplace, I’ve been this happiest before.
Perhaps, I am triggered by a nearby memory of ours.

Put perfectly together, I am afraid of losing balance.
I am afraid of my baggage.

I am a stallion, and you are a beautiful flower.

Placed above my brow, I am constantly wondering how.

To keep you there,
I always want you near.