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If love is what I think it is

Then I love him in the purest,

deepest sense of the word

I love him not in the way I love

guacamole, or English bulldogs, or running in the dead of night

but an innocent and fetal love,

blossoming bigger and brighter with each day.

Have you seen my heart?

It was last seen wandering aimlessly

I think he's stolen it

But that's okay

he can keep it for as long as he wants.