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Emily Hannah Sep 2014
A flirty message, a winky face attached.
It doesn't mean anything, I tell myself.
He loves you, I say. You are his world.
But I never quite believe it,
Though I know I have no cause.
Once a cheater always a cheater.
Isn't that the phrase?
I don't want it to but it sticks.
I hate myself for it.

A kiss or two here, a request for photos there.
It wouldn't be much to an outside eye.
But to me? It is everything
My ever fragile insecurities shattered.
My heart holding on, but barely.
Did I have cause after all?
Did he mean anything he told me?
That phrase again, always ringing in my ears.
Will I ever escape it?
Emily Hannah Sep 2014
His eyes are galaxies as I stare into them;
Countless colours, always changing.
His skin as soft and welcoming as a fresh set of sheets,
A feeling like coming home.

The scruffiness of his hair is never off putting,
It is as endearing as a child's laughter.
His smile is my sunshine on the darkest of days,
It is a wonder the whole world hasn't fallen under it's spell.

Lips as soft as velvet, comforting and warm.
Kissing them is better than any joy I have imagined.
His figure is a drug, so heavenly and refined.
I just can't stay away.

His fingers that please, his fingers that tease.
The very same that run lovingly through my hair.
And his words, simple sweet sounds.
But do they really mean anything at all?

— The End —