It's the way—

It's the way the moonlight dances off of your face, pulling me out of the hallucination of anxiety.

It's the way You look into my eyes, And I see my father reflecting back at me with the same love he does with my mother.

It's the way I never thought I would find you. Withering into my sixteen years old self, thinking I would be married by twenty.

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Cold Rush

Time to increase down the aisle. Opening up to something else that I can't see, to feel the assault of love slap me in the face.

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