Don’t come at me with that, it is truth, having opposed your missing, beautiful smile and rounded words, you attest to at will, the important sound, while the memories secure the heart. When you could not return my day, I should’ve smiled, for refilling the plate has distant love, and to resist at complication, restate your importance to wave less the hour, in-return to them important, a tear, from a star of Bay leaf, to be soundly of mine. Night less the day, that improvised store of weariness, smiles are at the best with bountiful assurance, for you have opposed to trust, that love tastes bitter when the returning plate gives you no smile.