Love might convince you that love is terrible. Wait no. Not having love after having had it might convince you that love is terrible. It already has done so to me. Then why this knowledge that I am wrong?
Are my memories, that way I felt, are they serving some force that goes against what sometimes has seemed so clear? That love is a fucking mess. Could it not be?
What if it's not.
Love. Spotless. Why spotless. Well impersonally. Love without the mess. What good is that?
What it sounds like.
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