Love was when we held a streched hands to each other, in the darkest of nights, caressing warmth into each others' souls.
Love was in those cackles and laughter after we'd cried tears and questions and blood.
Love was not just scratching nails on backs, shouting lust. Love was the beautiful world we made under the blanket we made love in.
Love wasn't stepping out and leaving me ripped apart, love was staying beside me in the empty space with mundanity and blues, when leaving me promised you a better future.
Sadly, you left.
I didn't.
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