You can't prove that love exists,
only that it doesn't.
That's why you pry your long, cold fingers
into every crack in my skin.
That's why you wait with terror-fueled patience
as long as it takes to craft your traps.
It's because, until I fail to love you,
love might be real.
It's because, as soon as you break me,
you'll know for sure that love is a lie.
Then you'll be safe,
won't you?
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