There is more of you,
And less of me.
It is always you,
That I see.
In every three
There is one like you I see.
How I wish to tell you
All that I feel for thee.
But I see your face
And go fidgety.
Unsure what binds
you and me
Wish I could fathom
The mystery and
ease myself of thee
Or maybe wish that you could
Feel and know
the depth of my misery.
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