Why I don't talk about,
Specific things, like the dew on the grass,
Or the smell of laundry, when it just comes out,
That's not what I think of when I think of you,
You're much too much an ethereal thing.
Each time I try to liken you to gossamer,
I simply lose my meaning.
You're like a googol of fireflies,
Swallowed up by the infinity of space,
The richest quadruple chocolate fudge cake ever made,
With unfathomable taste.
So I hope it's alright,
If I simply say,
That you are an impossible being,
That I search for everyday.
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