Sitting in your new lovers' room...

I'm writing even though I have a fuck ton of homework to do.
I can't help it, she is stuck on my mind.
So let me tell you about the girl who doesn't let me eat out of tupaware, to her the food is prepared and plated with love.
She is a girl who doesn't stop running her fingers through my messy curls after I've fallen asleep..
She loves me.
I think, I hope.
She has dark brown but looks-black wavy hair. I love how it's grown a little past her shoulders...
She doesn't like her brown eyes, I've never liked mine either but, hers I swear are a different kind.
Their color is swirled up with an infinite kindness. Fused with the most gentle passion I've ever known. Her touch is the definition of romance, and her love... It's influenced by the oldest fashion.
- I know I've wrote about people before... But have I ever written like this?
I'll leave you with something that hopefully reassures you.

I've been inspired by pain, but this is the first time I've been inspired by love.

This poem is about: 
Me

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