Clandestine.

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You take her by her hand through slipping fingers as though you don’t feel that you can’t make her whole. You want her but not in the way that you know that she needs you to, but you want to try. And i commend you for trying, for such a dignified attempt, but you won’t be able to fulfill her. From the moment you touched her you knew that there would be more, more than you could fix, more than you could bandage. You want to love her, want to forget about your hurt and your let downs and the fact that you are the one who really needs the bandages and the kisses and the gauze and I say gauze because your wounds are bigger than you think, bigger than you know. You can hurt too, its ok, but don’t you dare push past it just to realize one night in your silence that your heart has been murmured for years. Don’t forget the pain that you felt the moment you knew that your feelings were not reciprocated in the way you longed for. You can be a man, but not for me, not for the one whose vulnerability always allowed you to be you in the hopes of your honesty. I don’t expect you to ever be the same after it, I don’t expect you to love the same as you once did, but what I do expect from you is to love yourself enough to know you will never be able to transfer those misplaced feelings onto someone as strong as me.

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