Beautiful pictures.
You asleep.
I dreamed you dreamed of me.
I still think that to this day.
I took the pictures,
unashamed.
Secretly amused,
musing at my own internal thoughts.
Thoughts of being loved,
and loving you for it.
So inconsequential now,
the loving is gone.
When loved, I fear the loving will stop.
I welcome that fear,
when it reminds me,
I have something to loose.
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