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I hide my poetry from you,
to hide the things so painfully true,
the things I don't have, the words to say,
so I keep them from you, but maybe one day...
I won't have to.
I'm sorry for hiding my poetry. There's so much I don't have the words to say
The most **** thing about a guy has nothing to do with his clothes, hair or eye colour.

It's in the way he looks at you with longing, when you finally find out he wants you just as badly as you want him.

When he pulls you so close to him that there is literally no space between you, because he can't stand the thought of there being any.      

When he kisses you, so that it feels as if he is stealing the air from your lungs, and for those few seconds you forget what air even is.
    
When all thoughts go out the window and its just him, with you,in the most simple way possible.

Now that is the definition of ****.
Pure passion is ecstacy...

— The End —