He loves poetry at midnight. He’s a beautiful boy and he doesn’t wake up early. He needs coffee to wake up and he doesn’t drink or smoke. Probably once in a blue moon does he ever drink, but he’s beautiful nonetheless. You’re the eternal bad boy who fears nothing. You have the patience of time for intelligence but not for the intellectual. You do not think yet you are not suicidal. You are art and although you do not fear, you are not mentally unstable. I hope you understand how I feel about you, but you do think about me sometimes. Don’t you? If I was yours and you were mine. You should trust me. Don’t you? The fact that I’m madly in love with you and I find you intelligent; does it irk you?
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