I cannot spell the words I want to write.
Cannot express the truth of my own heart.
My thoughts apparent, lay within my sight,
But float beyond the limits of my art.
I suppose that such is love; a tempting pearl,
That draws the mind up close in to its trap,
And lost within the glory and the swirl,
Its caught and captured in a sudden snap.
Inside this shell is warmth, and tenderness,
Embroiling comfortably around the core,
Leaving the bearer never feeling less,
And at the same time always wanting more.
Inadequate and poor these words may be,
But filled with worth to those ensnared like me.
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