Compostition of Intimacy

With fears of eternal solitude, I called truce.

Obstacles fill the atlas of our hearts, 

distracting our impressions of exquisite Love.

Our painful beliefs insist we reprieve our minds,

voiding our previously learned doctrines of romance.

Phobias of Love furiously traveled the hourglass of our lives.

Chaos constrained our philosophy of enchantment,

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