Valentine, before we met your soul was a whisper on every warming breeze, the poem of every flower's aroma.
Valentine, if you are the cocoon then I will be your butterfly; yet should gales come, should bullets fly, you will then be quite safe wrapped up in my wings.
Valentine, how is it that your eyes captured my soul as easily as a camera captures a scene? How is that you see me in high definition when all others get is a pencil-sketch?
Valentine I am in love with your soul, and as such there can never be another. It happened so fast too, a glance, a conversation, a touch. I wish I could turn back time to be there in your embrace once more, skin to skin, yet until the universe wishes it there is nothing either of us can do. Yet I hope, dear Valentine, that I'm there in your soul forever as you are in my own.
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