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You are a sentence with no punctuation.  A kaleidoscope full of colors that I don’t remember learning in elementary school.  Your voice is a sound I’ve been looking for my entire life.  Your smile is the only sunrise worth setting my alarm clock early enough to see.  If I could, I would shape shift into the first thing you think about in the morning just so I can be reminded of what it’s like to wake up next to you.  I love you in a language that I don’t fully understand.  In words that I haven’t found enough courage to forklift out of my chest.  I hear that karma is vengeful and also a light sleeper, so I’ve chosen to love you like this.  Quietly.  
So I’ll call your phone and hang up before it actually rings.  I’ll write you letters that you will never read.  But when I see you in public, I’ll stick my hand inside of a bag full of things that I haven’t done since you left me and pull out a smile.  I’ll say something like “Hello.”  “It’s nice to see you.”  And I’ll keep walking.

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