My darling I could write for days
Of the shine of moonlight in your eyes
Of your pure clear skin, virgin-white as snow
Of your singularly inspired features
Of your raven-black hair, straight and healthy
Of every attribute you posess
Would it prove anything?
Perhaps.
Would it change anything?
Likeley not.
Shall I persist regardless?
Indubitably.
Out of love?
True love?
Admiration?
Obsession?
Inspiration?
I do not know.
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