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  • Writer's picturewhit


Never quite together, but the best of friends. Perhaps it doesn't matter anymore. But I feel like I need to mend this fling that lives on as folklore.

Infatuated by a smile and some attention, but it wasn't what I wanted. People imagined some surface tension, yet I left completely undaunted.

The beauty of a fleeting bud is the hope of something better. My heart didn't crash with a thud, so don't pin on me a scarlet letter.

I'm just as free as a bird. To tie me down would be absurd.

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