Infected

by Sine Qua Non

The rain pours outside. It is cold. I seek warmth. It is wrong to want you beside me and be wrapped in your embrace, feel your breath on my neck, and finally look into your eyes when we speak. There is no need for me to hide behind an overextended metaphor of desire. I want you but cannot have you. It is a foolish thing but I can’t help it.

I miss you like you’re mine.

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