The depths of his love will never amount to the love offered by a heart
so fragrant. The colonisation of such a complex organ takes patience. Amongst
the hassle, he is gifted with enough time to construct an illusory metaphor
around his peripheral vision, and it is this construction which makes it merely
impossible for him to succeed at the game of love. Nevertheless, he still
strives for glory, hoping that one day these written expressions will be
unnecessary. A spoken word of trust filled with affection; that is what he
wishes for. Unfortunately, the only words that leave his mouth are words of
inner deception and outer confusion. Please don't confuse his love for lust.
There is far more on his mind than just a momentary sexual touch of bliss.
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