I wish I could soothe this down, assuage this wound in you and me. My words and my tears; do they harm or do they heal? In the long run I have yet to see, for my vision blurs and my heart races and I feel nauseated when I don't know what's wrong and I'm waiting for you to speak. I feel weak, and your strength humiliates me. Maybe I think you deserve better, even if I'm not so bad, even if I love you so bad.
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