He calls me an angel,
He calls me a princess too,
He’s far… me, nearer to Me.
He’s my giant, my monster;
For he relates me to a Vampire,
A pathological annoyer too.
He asks me to do what he misses the most;
From eating a cheese-cake, to souring my taste-bud with beer.
He’s a self-claimed perfectionist,Oh, how I wish he could be…
He calls me a dim-wit, juggling in some massive pirates’ trade.
I say, he sounds like a pastor,
Christening my name more than I’m born.
Holy vengeance…
Yet so ideally perfect together.
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