He's
fifteen minutes away,
one hour in to absence,
sixteen hours from being right in front of me,
and the only kind of number game
I'm willing to play.
He's
my morning cup of coffee
and my bed time story,
the blankets I'm tucked in to
and the doodle on the mirror after my shower's steamed it up.
He's
a rose in value and
a dandelion in composure.
He's
my starry eyed romance
and my second chance,
the risk I'll take
and the smile on my lips.
He's
my favorite dance,
my most painful tear,
and he's the words that spill out of me
time and
time again.
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