philtre,
More love it draws from me;
My ego though is a filter,
I'm drowning, can't you see.
My love is like a prayer,
Said in the silent, secret hour;
Who'd be the soothsayer,
To make the bushes flower?
Our love is like a fourth dimension,
Too close and too far;
Forever spiking the passion,
Time, distance still no bar.
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