This poem won’t say I love you.
I’m too scared that it’s really true.
This poem won’t say you’re perfect.
I don’t know your defects.
This poem’s not about your skills,
Or how your touch gives me chills.
This poem won’t address your grin,
Or how it makes my heart stop within.
I told you I don’t write love poetry,
No matter how much you mean to me.
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