Perhaps if I were alike all else,
perhaps I would draw as much fascination from you.
Perhaps if my thoughts,
do not hold dreary images unfitting for her,
her who you have in mind,
then perhaps there would not be this tragedy
(and considering your like for tragedies!)
I would watch,
as clichés and clichés climb up and down your skin—
we only need a little getting used to.
We love a lot,
thus we hurt a lot.
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