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Words that matter most are oft ones that don’t get said;
Sheepishly hide our love until we’re on death bed.
The intoxicating thrill, when she smiles at me,
Deserves to be expressed and set forever free.

“Oh, she knows how I feel,” excuse we tell ourselves,
When simple, loving gestures are banished to shelves.
Reducing daily lives to soulless, dull routine:
Let our hearts’ declarations shine like Opaline.

Time we spend on Earth, gone in the blink of an eye;
Let loving words pour out as our acts testify.
No time like the present to share what’s in our hearts,
Morrow may be too late, go forth and make a start.

 

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