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Jas Jan 2018
Butterflies do not flutter in my stomach in the breath of talking to you,
instead a storm of moths rattle deep inside.
The beat of my heart doesn’t just grow in your presence,
it beats with the force of a million drummer boys on a storming day
My body does not shake when you are close,
It trebles with the intensity of a hurricane and the desire to be close to you.

— The End —