She loves you like syrup;
Sticky, sweet and a bit clingy.
You find traces of her on your hands
And at the corners of your mouth
And you never expect her to stay.
But she does.
You love her like slow summer mornings;
Breakfast in bed and pancakes before noon.
She finds traces of you in the lumpy batter
And in the pools of syrup you can’t stand.
And you never expected to love her.
But you do.
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