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Pearl, do you remember, the fifth of November,
When fireworks lit up the sky?
We lay in the sand, and I held your hand,
as you curled up in my arms.

Or perhaps you recall, that late night phone call,
when I told you I had a crush.
I didn't want to say, you made me anyway,
and I am so glad that I did.

How about the day, we got carried away,
when I invited you to see the dogs?
That very first kiss, is something I miss,
I knew that I wanted more.

Then when the party came, things were never the same,
we had an amazing night.
You were all mine, the world seemed fine,
and I was awed by every kiss.

And our very first date, you taught me to ice-skate,
though I wasn't any good.
So I sat in the stand, yes I sat and I planned,
and I finally asked you out.

Then our days in the sun, became second to none,
as our exams approached.
We sat in the park, and kindled our spark,
and I fell asleep on your lap.

A little later a different park, our meetings now held in the dark,
but they were so perfect.
Kisses were stolen and hands were held, my feelings for you they only swelled,
you became my world.

Then nights were spent by your side, sure one day you'd be my bride,
happy beyond belief.
I slept so well with you right there, you calmed each fear took away each care,
more than you will know,

That first kiss after weeks apart, set a fire within my heart,
that weekend was perfect.
I loved every second I could spend with you, I loved every second every of thing we'd do,
it was so hard to leave.

Weeks of nothing then two weeks of you, never was a love so true,
what a perfect time.
Cuddles, museums, and the zoo, I loved every single date with you,
it was so perfect.

But the best things are those we've not yet seen, our greatest kiss it's not yet been,
not if I can help it.

So anyway, all this to say,
I've missed you more than anything, to this day I still wear your ring.
I would love to be back in your narrative,
and I'll be there in my dreams where you still have me.
Hamilton's mistake was not taking the break when his true love offered it to him. I won't make the mistake of being with my true love when I have a break.
I hate my poetry
I think I hate my poetry,
there's a simple reason why, you see,
most of my words, I know are wrong,
feelings extinguished that live on in song,
of girls I've forgotten, and girls who don't care
so there's no point to poetry...is there?
And so death comes,
with crimson tides,
with cold harsh steel,
and graceful strides,
with burning pain,
and sweet release,
but at least this feeling,
will come to cease.
The last words I plan to write
before the darkness, of endless night,
will be just these, short and few,
I'm sorry for what, I did to you.
The curtain falls, and ushers in,
a blackness, mirrored deep within,
the stands are empty, the stage is dark,
my footsteps echo, as I embark.

And so I leave the stage behind,
the glorious world, where I once shined,
sans hope, sans light, sans life, sans air
I know where I'm going, and I'm not yet there.
I once used words to build a girl wings,
Made her an angel who flew on false strings,
I wrote her endless passages of heartfelt emotion,
as I sat and stared out at the endless blue ocean.

But now I feel to much, to find the prose,
to compare your beauty, to that of a rose,
for it's incomparable, to all else I see,
but know that you, are beauty to me.

So though I don't write like I once did of her,
know that it's you, that I prefer.
For the right words don't exist, to say I love you,
but I assure you that, I truly do
When all is gone,
that matters now,
one last poem,
survives somehow.
And so you read,
and so it goes,
explaining this,
in rhyme or prose;
My dear sweet love,
I love you still,
with all my heart,
I always will.
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