You cut open those deep wounds that lay dormant for two whole years. The sad aroma of pain notwithstanding, you also stood aloof soaking in the sweet satisfaction of my wails. And as I got screwed over, for the unrequited trust and senile belief and the iterated affirmation of my feelings, you stood your ground, which was sliding off under my feet. Ah, such beguiling emotions!
Strange are the ways of an ailing heart.
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Blasphemous Aesthete
Ah, such beguiling emotions! Period.
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