You'll probably never be able to love me right. It'll probably always feel awkward and lonely when you're not in front of me. But it will always make me feel the most when you're there in my gaze and within my reach. You make me feel. Loss, happiness, sadness, the air in my lungs. So what does the rest even matter?
Who will ever love you perfectly? What more is there to do than to be constant in your love? Unrequited or imperfect. Unrequited or imperfect?
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