how can I set my heart free
when summer and calendar inessentially remind me of you;
to an unexplained trust I hold,
scales and astrology unavoidably lead me to you;
drawn in your eyes, drown in your cerulean river;
before this all fade,
i hope,
it’s you.
and if now isn’t the time for us,
in another continuum,
against all rules,
against all reasons,
when you are ready,
i hope,
it’s me.
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