Have you ever thought that maybe this isn't real? That perhaps we're fooling ourselves because there's nothing else. Could we be pretending to be in love when in reality we're not? Perhaps I've become so accustomed to your fingers entangled with mine that I can't have it any other way. Maybe I can't bear to wake up beside someone else's body or brush someone else's cheek. For all I know, I can't be without your lips, your eyes, your arms, and your love. Am I sincere? I can't even tell. Theoretically speaking, what if I were to go, leave your embrace and look for something else. Would I find something better? How would I know?
Would you fight to keep me or would you step aside? Would you beg me to stay or not say a word?
I'm going now. I've packed my things. I'm putting my jacket on and reaching for the door. Stop me now, before it's too late. I'm walking over the threshold. Stop me, dammit. Tell me you love me. Tell me I'm beautiful. Tell me there's no one else. Tell me you want to grow old with me. Tell me. Tell me you'll marry me and keep me warm on winter nights. Tell me you'll hold my hand on walks to the market. Tell me you'll make me breakfast on Sundays and kiss my lips as we stand in sunbeams.
I love you. You're beautiful.
Sometimes, love doesn't cut it.
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