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Our eyes met and you wanted me.
Our lips met and I wanted you.
Whiskey and lemonade and deception
Stolen breath and hushed mirth.

You spoke to me in platitudes I planned desperately to believe.

Time is the killer of compassion.
Reality, of dedication.
Trite idioms and an insistence of intention
(It’s not about you, I didn’t intend to hurt you)
Turn my reflection to Medusa and my heart to stone.

Faith and trust are cotton in my mouth and water in my lungs.

Thoughts bound and tongue glued, the tomorrows weigh heavy.

I still want you.

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