Since you, nothing impresses
me. I cannot be wooed
by the stars
nor the leaves that whisper
in my ears as they drop to the ground.
The brightness of the sun
cannot compete with that of your smile.
I live and die with your voice,
how it so easily portrays that
which cannot be seen.
How can simple
atoms, chemical compounds, shapes,
colors, lights, any of it, compare
to what it is which makes up you?
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