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    midnights

    words are whispered in the minute spaces between the air and the tongue they fall off of. you say them into my skin, as if they come so easily to you. you call me lovely, a precious thing, and hold me as tightly as you can before my lightly cracked porcelain will begin to shatter. you tell me these things softly, like you're trying to tell the entire world and that's exactly what i mean to you. and when you say it like that, darling, how can i do anything but believe you?

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