i really don't think he has any idea. no matter how much i say it and try and get the point across, i don't think he fully gets the sentiment.
February. I wore the time like a dress that year. The winter days fell softly on me like cotton on my skin. And as the embers of the Autumn lost their breath and disappeared, my heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within. But then, he rose, brilliant as the moon in full and sank in the burrows of my keep. And all my armor's falling down in a pile at my feet and my Winter's giving way to warmth as I'm singing him to sleep.
It goes along just as a water lily. Gentle on the surface of his thoughts, his body floats. Unweighed down by passion or intensity, yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts. And he finds a home in me, for what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap. And all my armor's falling down in a pile at my feet. And my winter's giving way to warmth, while I'm singing him to sleep.
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