You’re a dream I keep coming back to; nothing more and nothing less, than a recurring sequence played over and over in my mind
This peculiar affinity I feel…is not love, but partial lust and intrigue
In you, I see the vaguest notion of a future, secure from torment, swathed in bliss
And I cannot resist the thought of us; so tempting, naïve
But it is the thought alone I crave; the rich delusion I cling to
The reality I cast aside, in preference of sweeter fancy
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