Finesse of love

There is a girl… A few, de facto – alas. But she is different…
I drift away with her; trying to escape, searching aberrance.
Her mind, like mine: capricious vanity… attention in sollitude; commitment removed for the ominous loneliness in feud… a deep ruckus with herself: I push books of love off the shelf… it falls to her voice… the movable ground shakes the pages surrendered to romance:
Nothing matters in her presence… the heart acquiescent; it aches to be relieved by a distance pulling farther…
I must let her be; that is love’s decree…

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