Soupçon

Some poems rhyme,
some sentences end.

Some battles are lost,
some bruises are deep.

Some winters are warm,
some summers are cold.

Some lovers leave,
some people smile
when they endure pain.

Some lips look nice
until you kiss them.

Some people would say
I’m a cold hearted rogue,
but it doesn’t matter.

This smile on my face,
it rhymes with yours.

This warmth of my skin,
it falls for yours.

This heart on my sleeve,
it beats with yours.

This soul of mine,
it looks for yours.

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