historical fiction and purple dreams

we used to be embarrassed of admitting our love for love, so we
jokingly labelled it something that bored us to death.
and you’re scared of happiness dying once labelled, so where
i dream and see romance, you dream and fear horror. but love,
love is love and horror all mixed up together and everyday i wake up
with my heart gripped in the firm grasp of your warm hands, both
(a) fearing that we may one day cling too tight and suffocate like maybe you’ll
squeeze my heart dry and i’ll bloody your pure hands, and (b) also dreaming
that our grips may never loosen and we love so hard our faces turn purple


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