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Author of 33 Stories |
Sorry for the sappiness. And stereotypicalness. If that's a word.
You're not mine, are you? I see the others looking at you. You make people fall in love with you in every heartbeat, capturing them with your words and the way you move. You don't see it. You can't even see how totally you've captured me. I'm ensnared by your presence. I can't get out. It's driving me crazy. Every single moment of every single day I want to be with you, touching you, living you. But I can't. No, I'm not allowed to touch you beyond the occasional 'accidental' brush of fingers.
He holds you. I hate him most of all. He is my jailer, and if he released you then I could be released, as you could be mine. If I could I would kill him, because that would give me you.
I don't mind being trapped by love for you. If only I could let that love show…
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