I am no baker
and you are no heart-breaker
so I guess we can lose ourselves
in this moment of wonder.
There's me, waltzing to the music of six strings
and there's you, blurring my flaws with soul art.
Tell me, should we explore what this feeling brings
or should we glow in the suspense?
In this moment, love is the blend of breaths
on a phone call.
Love is a silky goodnight
with whispered emotions.
Love is me losing my rhyme in this poem.
I could call this moment a lot of things:
delight, joy, warm-throated pleasure.
I could call it WHITE:
heaven on earth.
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