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Tuesday, August 12, 2014

old

Gripping the pen with four fingers like third graders do before learning to correctly hold a pencil, the muscles in his forearm jump with every beat of concentration.
I've never loved someone so much, or if I have I can't remember. Everything with him is different, more intense. When his eyes pierce into mine I think I could die. I'm obsessed, infatuated, so in love I could rip my hair out. Loving someone this much hurts because it can be taken away in an instant, it can be taken away at all. Suddenly this face, these hands, these mannerisms are so apart of my life, mind, my everything, I wonder what it would be like to lose them. It would be like learning to breathe without a lung, to see in black and white. 

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