The worst thing about it all is that I miss you. Or the memories of you which still linger in the back of my mind from time to time. Naked in your bed, your lips upon my flesh. The sense of security as I'd lay there in your stupid and impish arms. The pain you caused me when I asked you to be my own; only to be rejected for another man. And then the list went on. But somehow I didnt get over you. Somehow I still think that you'll save me. . .
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