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Mon Amour Interdit,
I would kill.. no
I would die..
No.
I would live for you.
To die, to shrivel and decay in the absence of your light would be the easiest task,
A dandelion blown away in the wind, an inevitable demise in the foreseeable winter.
Tis the most natural thing, to rot and expire without you… The very essence of your presence has always held the sense of mortality, the urgency of the eternal and life everlasting.
To live..
...without you..
This is an abhorration, a blasphemy born into the world scraping , weeping, and aching for death. To live is as unnatural a thing as to be shunned, exiled, that the feeble existence not offend its neighbors to look upon. To live.. without you.. a torturous sentence one wouldn’t commute on the worst offender, much less expect them to endure and thrive.
A sickly, pale glowing, cave-dwelling weed devouring a pin light of sun. Its pollen long since pointless and seeds bear only doomed children who perish in its view.
A Sisyphean lifetime is life without you. Fraught with trial for an outcome non-existent, punished through perseverance with little option to surrender.
- However -
For you.. oh, my sweet, distant subject of Morpheus’ reign, my beloved dream who still somehow holds the strings of my corseted heart,
For you.. only for you..
(If only it could be for you...)
I would live. For you.
Yours in devotion, in spirit, in respectful distance...and I suppose hopelessly still in love,
Moi
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