Self-indulgent poetry for my dear one

If, through some heartache
or chemistry of senses,
you find your soul dialed in
to the blissful nuance of cooler wind on cheek
or magnetic call of hills organized by gradient
or the exquisite ennui in a fox call
And I, your Philistine, fail to notice
Don’t think me dull
Instead, take my hand
and kiss this brain
pull me into the riotous art inside your ribs
let me peer out your window
Drenched in sudden astonishment
And I will see
And I will understand
And I will love you forever


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