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Destroy the Mountians

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I shake from the unquenchable compulsion to have your arms hold me as I lay in this bed sobbing tears of love and longing. Like an addict blocked by a mountain the size of Olympus, unable to nourish her deficiency, I yearn to hear your heartbeat reverberate through my lungs, my heart, and my soul. The feeling of your soft lips marking my forehead with a kind of innocent love, and your whispers into my soul of a passionate love are the things which taunt my imagination. I call to you in my dreams, begging you to scale the mountain, to fight Aphrodite, to rescue me from this famine, but when I awake I see only an empty spot in a bed which mirrors the palpable void in my heart. I’ll mark each day I’m without you with a deep cut in this pulsating center. The cuts will grow—but never lessen—so much that they become a gash so thick the blood rushes out until all that’s left of me is skin and bone, empty of all meaning.
Destroy the mountain, my love, and heed my call. When the darkest night falls on your city, seek light in the place which has none and with your presence illuminate the pounding drum’s cavity. Clip the cruel Cupid’s wings, and I promise you this: I’ll sew us wings of satin that will carry us to the highest of heights and farther than any other couple has soared before. Uncross the stars and deny the prophecies. We’ll create our own light and write our own fates with ink made from our red auras. Destroy the mountain, my love, and when I awake you’ll be resting beside me, our hands interlocked, and our hearts beating as one.



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