There are four kinds of men in life.
I have called them Winter,
Autumn and Summer.
Summer being my least favorite
Months where the passion is too bright
And burns out fast.
Winter being men of snow who melt
In between the floorboards before you can keepthem.
And Autumn the perfect cast of shade
Who remind me how beautiful dying for something is.
I am Spring as I am always awakening
And they are forever changing.
But there is only one called Love.
And he is calling to me.
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