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Act of Love

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It felt nice, you know, feeling the warmth of it between my finger tips, swirling a part of you around in my hands, thinking about when it happened, how I was scared at first, afraid, unsure- I didn’t know if I should have because it made me feel dirty inside, guilty, hurt, vulnerable; but now I know it was the right thing to do, the best for both of us, for our relationship, for our love to last; I had to do it because you said you couldn’t love anyone by me, and I had to make sure of that, I had to make our love last by doing this: this act of love, of hatred, but mostly love; now I’m sitting here, staring at your limp body, your hands are weak, your eyes are closed, your body so pale, but I can see a slight smile on your face, a smile I helped form on you, and the look on your face when your features tie together, so gentle, so loving, so loving of me, so calm, so at peace, and I remember the time we spent together before this, how I touched you and you touched me, and you told me that everything would be okay, that I was the only one for you, that we were meant to be together; and I’m sitting here thinking about what I’ve done to make you love me, your blood on my fingers, your life gone, and I’m sitting here thinking that of course you loved me, of course you were telling the truth, and of course you’d always love me, you said you’d never love anybody but me, so why did you have to go and love her?




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