“Kiss me like a stranger again,”
she whispered.
“I need new life
I crave excitement, thrill.
“I don’t want to give you up. I don’t want to let you go.
You comfort me.
But our passion has faded. I need you to
Kiss me like a stranger again.”
I didn’t, or couldn’t, or wouldn’t accept.
We wept.
She left.
I let her go.
With time comes understanding, perception,
Regrets.
It should have been so simple:
“Kiss me like a stranger again.”
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