i know you hate dog-eared pages, but dog-ear this one so
you can go back to it and read about how all i dream
about now is your face, how the most wonderful place i've been
is resting in your arms, and how i love to see you laughing.

bend the corner so you can come back to these words (that tell
of your skin so smooth and milk-white, and tell how any angel
would hope to have half the love and light of your pure heart) if
i'm ever too far away for you to hear me shouting them.

you are soft and full of goodness, like the earth in spring, so
mark this poem with a paperclip in case
someday i'm
riding a train down south or something and can't remind you

that your kisses taste sweeter than christmas oranges to me -
but if you already know where your page is
there's no reason to mark it, love, just know it was written.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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