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winchestheart  
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I started to wonder, as I bathed a sachet of tea in a mug I stole from your house, if all I’ll ever mean to you is what I took away. If my place in your life, my puzzle piece in the Greater You, ends up as only a missing piece. Negative space. I just worry that I’m the appliqued letter on your favorite sweatshirt that one day wears away. Or the childish “y” at the end of your single syllable name, discarded with age for seriousness. That absence to prove that I took from you and then left it that way. Each evening when you tell me about the triumphs of your day, are your words catching in my hair only to later on be washed down the drain? Will you cut out my embroidered “love” on your heart?

When my tea finally dyed the water it was in, I sent out a prayer that I won’t just be a passion colored bruise left to fade on your skin. I hope that I don’t leave as A Waste of Your Time, who’s lips can not touch yours— only the ceramic of a mug you’ve left behind.

- Negative Space - Chloe Allyn (via momstop)
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