I fear my lover has already left me.
The silence stalks me about the house. I pen love letters to abandon them. Leave dirty marks on the furniture as I brush up against tables, chairs and washing lines.
I am drowning in romance as you stand grimacing from the shore.
Heavy petting does not come lightly. Free never meant to be cheap. I was offering heady liberation, a surrender to something more beautiful than your own reflection. A chance to glimpse through the mundane sounds of passing pedestrians and lose all sense of direction in someone elses body. Someone elses soul.
You mistook it for a handout.
It was a gift.
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