I'd have bargained, begged. For fuck's sake, I'd have wept tears of blood, torn my hair, thrown myself to the ground.
Instead, I unknowingly sought a more subtle poison, your half-stunned joy. It was a gorgeous thing to share and I crept towards it, flinching wildly with every silence, every misspoken word.
How do you bear it? What reason can you give, now, for that useless hope?
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