choosing a picture is harder than writing this poem.

the prettiest of nature didn’t really mean that much, when the most green of grass, just reminded me of your eyes, or the palest sand reminded me of your fare skin. the red fires were now just as fierce as your hair, and the deep oceans. were now just as dangerous as your laugh.

now that I think about it, you might even be better than the earth I once called home, as home was now with you.

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