I love you,
More than a bookworm’s love for a new book’s pages
More than a writer’s love for the quintessential ink pen,
More than a librarian’s urge to keep books in order,
More than a child’s eagerness to get chocolate,
More than a Nyctophile’s love for the night,
More than the depth of those rifts caused by my abrasive words,
I am no Shakespeare or Barrett,
I can’t write odes in praise of you,
I can just hope that my words,
Keep your soul connected to mine,
A layer deeper,
Whenever I dedicate my words to you,


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