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What I meant to say before is that these things take time. Scratch that, that these things unwind as they will with centrifugal force until my clothes and yours are both lying on the floor and the mathematics of managing my absence of meaningful connection with another human being have been replaced with teeth-clenching fidelity and my story of a semi-mythical trip to the corner store.
God I sound so dumb right now.
But what I'm trying to say somehow is that I love you even more than I can bear. That my need for you is more dependable than my tendency to swear. That there is no metaphysical truth that I would begin believing in if it did not mimic you and the way you talk about things that you do not understand.
That you are something I never could have planned for. That I promise you will always have the key to my door. That we could put a baby in the oven and I would feel no guilt. That you have burned me to the ground and I refuse to be rebuilt.