To say that you're a part of me,
are colours my eyes have not learnt to see,
Or maybe colours I cannot describe well,
like the glass wings of a delicate yellow dragonfly,
transparent and iridescent fail to express.
Knowing that I crave for the comfort of
the warm blanket of your skin.
Ridges on your palm are the lines I fear to fill,
yet these are the same hands I grasp in
the darkness of House of horrors,the hour of need.
The theory I apprehend to learn
the night before an examination,
Uncertain,but I know I can answer
the phenomenon which is you ,
even if it sounds this cheesy.
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