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And I don’t even like you, but the pain of life without you is biting.
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You know, and I know, just how much we defy.
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I want your most vital organ. I want it to be mine.
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This is my carefree, this is my freedom–this is MY HAPPY.
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You disenchant me.
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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.
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Head high, heart in hell
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You are my heart, my head, my spine-you are the beat thumping through every line, and that’s why I write–it’s the only time we can be side by side.
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I want your hand without the skin. Bone to bone without the molds. Mouth to mouth, without the porn.
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I wore your promise on my finger for one year I'll wear your name on my heart til I die Because you were my boy, you were my only boy forever.
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Soul mates are muses. The people in your life you despise, disrespect and desire the most.
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She wanted to write about something other then love. Yet her freethinking pen seemed more adhered to her heart then to her head. A battle she never felt worth fighting.
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Our stations in life, our difference of cultures, the pain-laid men who raised us—forbid us to be us. They have brainwashed us. We feel we should believe the polarity between us.
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To say “I love you, but….” is to say, “I did not love you at all.
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Growth in love comes from a place of absence, where the imagination is left to it’s own devices and creates you to be much more then reality would ever allow.
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Dear Heart, please go away.
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Love thy neighbor as thyself. Unless he calls you names. Then do not love him, run in the opposite direction and throw a gerbil at his door.
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I’m ready, I’m bursting with color I’m highlighed in the best this world has to offer
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He's just not that into you if he is a sociopath.
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Poor Mr. Zum now he was un-fun and had no funs left who wanted to entertain him. What a qerbackle, what an un-fun pickle to be in.
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Every fairytale has a villain. All high quality happy endings involve a black-hearted monster. I just didn't want you to be mine.
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I am torn open, unabridged, hot and a bit crazy inside. This is the feeling which belongs to me, she has always been mine.
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I hate you. I hate you like the girl who hates cake because it makes her fat and she can’t stop eating it.
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If I had no imagination, I would hate you. But I don’t want to be part of your reality.