I think my love for you began
when all our books were destroyed.
The words were gone, so I read
your face instead. I asked you to tell me
about the ocean. Your eyes whispered
of kelp that dances in the deep.
Your brow of the ship that always seems
to lie beneath. Your nose spoke of fins
that brush your thighs so lightly, while
your mouth was a reef in and of itself.
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