Heartbeats, Ticking like time, expanding, contracting, Each moment holding its own eternity Nestled between the beats. And there are things, The glow of a silver-bleeding moon Softly kissing The contour of your tender cheek. Or a breeze After a springtime rain, Clad with the amaranthine scent Of your musk-rose bouquet. Things that exist Only to carry a breath, 'I love you,'
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