I don’t want to read your words,I want to peel back your layers, little by little, I want to touch the place where your words are born. Show me the imperfect balance of thoughts and dreams. Exposed the rose and the thorns, the darkness and light. Show me your madness, your beauty. The appellations of your words are immortal, timeless treasures, born out of pain and hope. You are no mere poet, you my love are a lyricist a sonneteer a master of words and thoughts©
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