My elder brother rolled his tongue
And said, look, love is like a butterfly
That keeps flying elusively
Until it perches on you
When you least expect it.
To talk about love
I held my peace.
But if my brother was right,
Why hasn't Angelina come to me by now?
Image sourced from Pixabay
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I am 
, the young man who goes about carrying his magical pen, not his gun, in his pockets.
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