Micro-love

Grand gestures seemed to be the fittest

for a race that build rockets and tames the lightning.

If one wishes to impress their dearest,

Nothing but the best; nothing but glaringly striking.

 

Subtle brushes and longing glances,

Paired with breathless gasps are out of fashion.

The population are not willing to take any chances,

With a poor sod who’s incapable to convert passion.

 

Diamond songs will make them willing,

Only sentiments that are covered in gold counts.

The love on the private jet is accepted and thrilling,

Micro-love of devoted heart hardly flaunts.

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