i must admit i was charmed by your advances
so, i scanned those pictures finally.
love is not a word to be understood.
what power does something have
when it is constricted into
what we believe that it should be?
this lack of air is coming naturally.
butterflies relentlessly tickling my insides
is becoming a normal practice.
the perfect shape and color of your eyes
is hammering away at my insides.
you're so beautiful.
i know you're not perfect.
but in my eyes, you're flawless.
and when the wick is burned, your flame still stays alive.