Under the shade of apple trees I hide
pricked by the thorn of adoration and speculation
I leave my voice muted by you
gagged and tied up in a bureaucratic nation
I am doing my best at keeping myself silent
uttering nonsensical words in your presence
and I still get giggly and nervous
while you get embarrassed and pretentious
and I could map you out on a wall
under familiarity and understanding and love
I've got you folded up in my back pocket
holding on to a necklace like a drug
I still look around for your hand in bed
and I still listen for your voice in the night
and I'm getting away with my romanticism
but I assume in regards to you, it's all right
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