The difference is astonishing, my love.
Our temperament, ideals, and standards are opposing forces.
I, a ball of fire; You, a dove.
Our beauty, eyes, lips, even our voices.
Nothing is the same except this one feeling: love.
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We are opposing by nature, even down to our signs.
But this difference doesn’t have to be a hundred-pound anchor.
I am the flower on your ever-giving vine.
You are the place I run to when I am lost, my harbor.
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If I am a star, then you are the sun, forever shining brighter.
You are the light in my waking darkness.
You, the muse; I, the writer.
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Will this difference allow our love?
Can we love when we are opposing forces?
Nothing is alike, even down to our voices.
We’re so different, my love.