"May-be a Red String"
by Bugs Bunny
Falling was never the intention,
yes, there was attraction,
but never an admission,
then a reverberation,
ignited by a constant simulation,
in this rocky cognition,
brought about by a noisy sensation,
that left a scary intuition.
a question, what if this is just an imagination
that has no possibility for fruition
but mere humanity pushes for a direction
that asks for an action
regardless of expectation,
all wanting a possibility of a connection
because all this suppression
is beginning to become a full blown implosion
of what was just a little suppression
held by a weak gravitation.
Then came the confession,
unsure of the this declaration,
a liking that was a hidden expression,
of a quietly kept emotion,
but telling you is a decision,
made by a deep appreciation,
for your subtle mystification,
that this mortal find a difficulty in comprehension,
allured, encapsulated, by this crimson elation,
you may call it a contusion,
but surely this is a profession
of a this mortal's intention
no more repression,
just an aspiration,
a compassion,
a no more confusion,
you're this mortal's definition
of perfection.
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