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Perhaps this is not truly how love is. Perhaps, in some distant universe, Love is a more gentle thing. There, I would not have to promise you everything.
Love is a plant, and:   Because I love you, I turn over fertile soil To plant a healthy seed, to grow a budding stem.   Because I love you, I water a budding stem
you put your fist through the wall next to my head, threatening me,  and i cried, i watched the fire behind your eyes as i cowered in fear.  you put your fist to my jaw, my ribs, my arms, 
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