(Please ignore the "chops" in this photo. He was going through an experimental stage with facial hair).
Dear C,
I’m counting down the minutes till I see your handsome face,
I can’t take it any more, at this awful pace
I’ve missed your jokes, your warmth, your smell,
Without you is worse that being imprisoned in a jail
I hope this little poem shows you how I feel,
Now sit back, relax, and let me cook you a home cooked meal.
Love,
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