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I do not love you as if you were a rose of delicate pink nor a sharp arrow of a Mum's crimson passion: I love you only as one who keeps secrets of love hidden beneath layers of soul and rows of heart. I love you as if each flower that is allowed to bloom keeps the true beauty of itself hidden within; yet allows the fragrance of its love to rise upward towards the Earth to fill our bodies with its aroma. I love you without understanding how or why, I love you instantaneously without thought, I love you like this because I must always; for in this form I am not me and you are not you except as your heart becomes emblazoned into mine, except as our bodies are tangled together as one. (This was written for a contest with a Pablo Neruda sonnet as my inspiration) Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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