You always seem to want to place a price tag on our love, as if money is comparable to this gift from up above. Although I may not be made of riches, or have enough to buy you gold. I can assure you that I will never fail to be there when you need someone to hold. They say that the best things in life are free, yet for some reason you selfishly make me feel like I am running on empty. I cannot offer you caviar, or trinkets from afar; but I can look into your eyes at night and feel like I am gazing into the stars. I have tried for so long to show you that I value none of this, tried to explain to you that I am happiest when we kiss. Your embrace is worth its weight in diamonds and pearls, the moments that we share alone make me feel like I am on top of the world. I appreciate all that you have given me that cost you hard earned dollars and cents, but I cherish little sentiments more than the money that you have spent. I am a sheep in wolf's clothing, disguised by my own flaws. I am a simpleton at most, refusing to conform to societal laws. I am less superficial than I make myself out to be, yet somehow this escapes you as you recount how much you have dwindled on me. When we cuddle late at night or see all the pretty sights, I can guarantee that I feel like the bourgeoisie. I do not need you to work hours to buy my happiness; as you already have my love, why is it so difficult to digest? My love is as priceless as the simple memories that we share, my bounty is as endless as an eternal affair. Hopefully in time you will be able to accept, this concept that confuses you and often leaves me upset. I know that money does not grow on trees and that it can be hard to come by, but I would rather spend a fortnight just staring at your smile. Roses, chocolates and valentines will never be declined, but the gesture is more appreciated and so is the time. I pray that one day you see, as my soul is crying out, that I have loved you from the start as I am your soul mate without a doubt.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
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