Words. You speak the sweetest words… so meaningful, yet so empty. You’ve perfected this work of art; this modern romance of sorts. Forget independence, I’ll sleep in my pool of vulnerability. Just give me a glass of wine and a few pills and I won’t even notice you, anxious for me to drift off to sleep.

You can wear me on your arm and I will wear you on my own. We are so handsome together, they all say. They’d love nothing more than to see us torn apart. I couldn’t tell you what keeps us glued together. It couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be security. Perhaps we are just too comfortable. Keep telling me those empty words which I love so much, I’ll keep pretending to believe them. Another drink, dear?

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