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What is romance to them
But the couple holding hands as they walk
Fingers, that warm and smooth, curl into the palm of his hand
A brush of lips against her cheek
Their bright laughter in the crowd
Pretty, petty, meaningless romance
What is romance to me
But the warm, calloused fingers that curl around mine
Fingers, that slick and slippery, press ever so sweetly inside, mimicking the bliss of feeling him cradled against my inner thighs
The sandpaper scrape of butterfly wings in my chest
Incising their mark in the red meat of my heart with each fluttering laceration
Oh, romance
You fleeting bitch.
But the couple holding hands as they walk
Fingers, that warm and smooth, curl into the palm of his hand
A brush of lips against her cheek
Their bright laughter in the crowd
Pretty, petty, meaningless romance
What is romance to me
But the warm, calloused fingers that curl around mine
Fingers, that slick and slippery, press ever so sweetly inside, mimicking the bliss of feeling him cradled against my inner thighs
The sandpaper scrape of butterfly wings in my chest
Incising their mark in the red meat of my heart with each fluttering laceration
Oh, romance
You fleeting bitch.
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