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she can't let it go, she can't release it. she can't stop thinking about it. the endless sea of what if's cross her mind. she hums and haws about him. about her reaction to him. about that night. about effort. about time. about desire. about love. she wants to give up hope, but her hope is seeded so deep within her that she is unable. she recognizes this as both a blessing and a curse. something that can be so valuable in one setting and so unfavourable in another. all that was good about it wasn't. not for her at least. and yet, she could feel herself falling, falling softly into the night.
his touch, she remembers, was with such passion. it lasted all night. upon the first meeting. through the beautiful music. through midnight rides. through fireworks. through parties and people and strangers. through artistic expression. through exploring rooftops. through the terrible yet inebriating, freeing, enticing substances. through conversation full of meaning. through bed sheets. through the sunrise and chirping birds... and when morning finally came, she was beside herself. from that moment on, she treated it like an egg. too fragile to handle at times, but perhaps that was just her mindset. meticulously thinking, over analyzing, aching out of excitement and the unknown. she thought "this is a dream come true", a deep lust of months passed, finally fulfilled. in that sense, she won. but in reality, winning is losing, because
she can't let it go... even if she must.
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