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You don’t know me enough

so how can I explain to you

the sound of the city

silenced by your breathing.

How am I supposed to share

what I see in you

if all gets down to be blinded

by this overwhelming beauty you just had to have.

Love is not always so good

but kissing you was like

dinner at a three stars Michelin restaurant

every, fucking, night.

But now the heart is loud

and my brain screams like Ramsey.

I wish I had the recipe

that makes the linens scent like you

but then again,

I’m a writer, not a cook.