The sad thing is you seem determined to produce such humiliation in me.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
The sad thing is you seem determined to produce such humiliation in me.
I don't feel like you needed, or wanted to love.
A little voice in my mind would admit I deeply denied how his promises of comfort and love are empty desire. A sugar rush. I feel momentarily moved, but alone.
Her authentic might have been lost. She would tell him what he liked - it would be enough, it was almost certainly love.
He is a ghost, trapped in silence confined to revisiting her as a nameless presence.
Desire and despair, they were like magnets that clashed, colliding again and again, obsessively all her life.
The panic was starting, I didn't recognize myself, I lost all trace of me, that young woman is a ghost.
This pain, it will be permanent not constant. You won't die but you won't banish it.
We couldn't undo the past, it was true. You're just afraid you did not know how to forget that place in your life.
People criticize a woman who gives up love, yet no one criticizes the man for the same story. The woman bears the blame in love and life.