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Planned Affection
I thought I understood it,
But I didn’t
Not all of it, at least.
The truth was not
the countless
whispered confessions
planned affection.
Not the young
newborn
excitement of it all,
rid of any doubt that wormed its way
into the midst of obsession.
The truth was often blocked out,
by ourselves.
The truth that you and me doesn’t equal
smooth-edged forevers,
That halves can’t complete each other
if they aren’t equal.
The truth that we will never be whole
without the in-between bits
that struggle to stay hidden
under perfectly-dreamed-up
lies.
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