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The Innocence of Bliss

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I'm sure you well know, but there
are still a thousand things I
wish I could say to you. I
simply do not possess the words

to somehow

express to you the secrets
and dreams I so desperately
crave to confess as we
whisper sweet nothing's
through the burning mist
and lose ourselves
in this feeling--- may it be

love? You

and I. Happily ever after?
Who knows, it's all in fate's hands.
This disgustingly beautiful dream,
this somehow real fairytale
straight from the mind's eye

now suddenly seems

so surreal in it's own manner.
Solid to the eye, but daring
to crumble at the slightest touch
and have it slip right through our

so real

fingers like being on the verge
of waking from a dream
you never want to end.
Someone once said that you
can know you're in love
when you can't fall asleep
because your reality is finally
better than your dreams.

In it's own moment,

knowing you has been
better than any dream
any man has ever dreamed before,
should I ever sleep again.
So why am I so reluctant to believe?
I'd no sooner call it love
than the innocence

of bliss.





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