Soon we will be strangers. No, we can never be that. Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. We will be dangerous acquaintances with a history.
When I say, I love you, it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with the perfect clarity exactly what you are.
Maybe I'm getting tired - I can't think of anything but nights with you. I want them warm and silvery.
We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and stars bright.
I live my own life and nurse my own wounds. It’s not the best way to live. But it’s the way I am.
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