Monday, January 7

Just a Wishful Thinking

Trembling lips do not whisper sound,

Whenever they find you around

The heart seeks you in sublime,

Effecting divine ecstasy in mind


The priceless you are, the worthless I’m

The Goddess you are, the stupid I’m

And, there is no match for sure to be found

Still I ask, “Will you be my valentine!”

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