"Happy" isn't what she hoped it would be, love is a mystery - desire a depth haunted by inevitable imperfections.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
"Happy" isn't what she hoped it would be, love is a mystery - desire a depth haunted by inevitable imperfections.
I seek no love or happiness, I am content to suffer alone as once I falsely hoped to meet a love comparable to mine.