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	In my story you're the villain. But in my heart, you're still the reigning King.   
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	Life is wonderful when you're the one to write it.   
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	You break me the hardest, make me the strongest, and keep me the softest.   
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	I pull away, you pull me back, you grab my hand and wrap me around. What you did not know is—– my heart is my hand.   
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	You can only use someone for so long before you dry them out. How long does a muse last? When do you let them loose?   
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	...I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately.   
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	When we are in love, we are convinced nobody else will do. But as time goes, others do do, and often do do, much much better.   
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	I miss your silent stature, your avoided days of disaster, your present state of distress. I’m cinnamon, cloves and fire, you are the rested cedarwood of desire.   
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	Fuck you perfectionism. Without you, I am brilliant.   
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	...just friends, over and over you said it again—-then you kissed me.   
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	When you miss someone....it’s weird…your body doesn’t function normally..as it should. Because I miss you, and my heart…it’s not steady…my soul it sings numb. Fingers are cold…like you…your soul.   
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	Make your choice and make it quick, either build a real heart, or get out of my way QUICK.   
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	And why is it that time speeds and slows depending on your attendance? I’d like a steady clock, a reliable clock, isolated from the progressive beating of my heart.   
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	Elegant writers depict intricacy with simplicity.   
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	He's a gypsy killer. He has a special gypsy killing knife.   
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	You know, and I know, just how much we defy.   
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	...you’re in my blood spreading through my heart— pumping me numb.   
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	I love you, with no beginning, no end. I love you as you have become an extra necessary organ in my body. I love you as only a girl could love a boy. Without fear. Without expectations. Wanting nothing in return, except that you allow me to keep you here in my heart, that I may always know your strength, your eyes, and your spirit that gave me freedom and let me fly.   
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	You disenchant me.   
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	Peanut butter is my frenemy.   
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	Head high, heart in hell   
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	But every spiteful word she ever wrote him was effortless love clenched in her fists. Her heart screaming for stability in this fiery game of desire.   
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	You tear me down just to build me up again. All I can think is: you are a psycho-clown.   
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	My insides turn outward in acknowledgement of your absence. My heart slips out of my chest and down into my gut.   
