my head is full, in a house full of empty
The taste of the mouth where i place my lips is a near nosh-up.
Breathing as a rhythmic pattern is my remedy for the unknown nature.
The majority, is a blur.
but you, are so clear
your eyes, seem perfectly symmetric with mine.
Everything else falls in line.
Your scent is tangled in my sweater, and i haven't worn it better.
My love is not ordinary, or mere long-windedness.
my love; is poetry of the senses.
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