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It was clear, that you were beginning to fall out of love with me. Because your hands don't touch me the way they used to, and your smile doesn't light up like it used to, and your poems don't mean much like they used to.

And I had come to a conclusion. Your poems weren't meant for me, they were meant for her. Your love wasn't meant for me, it was meant for her. You never loved me, but you loved her, and you still love her.

That's why you leave to her, but still come back to me. You come back for all the wrong reasons. You come back when things go wrong with her. You come back because you know that I'll always let you come in.

"Theena, I love the way your long beautiful locks of hair feel in between my fingers."

I sighed into the crook of your neck, because my head did not with hold long locks of hair. No, for my brown strands were short, cut to my shoulders. I didn't remind you of that though.

I let you continue to whisper sweet phrases into my ear. Even though I knew that they were meant for her. I couldn't let you go though, instead I etched myself closer into your embrace, because even though you love her, I'd always love you.

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