I want you to #remember the first and last sentences. We said to each other, the way the wind was blowing after. the last #syllables, and the even whether or not there was some kind of divine sign. During those #moments that begged for us to be together. Yes we are rags of our pasts but when you count all of the times we have been #torn in half. There are so many parts left to #love, but still to mend, you’re right. Sometimes you say that the #photographs I take are mere #illusions, but I say that they can hold us together like #metaphors. Then, you say that only #memories can hold us together that way. But I say words can do better than both combined. Words, you say though, are like a #bladed#weapons and when I use them to #rhyme it’s as if I’m drawing blood from #poetry. I tell you that I cannot see myself without photographs or writing and ask you to say to no my #obsession with my version of our #stories, truth only in the blank spaces or in my inhalations even, if you must to take away this very pen. But instead, you draw a dotted line with it, sign it, #promising to reconcile your stubborn “I-put-my-foot-down” threats with my stumbling #tantrums. Maybe it’s time we try to love one another with our #hands down, even just to see what it’s like.
'My Love Is Strictly Reserved For You!'
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