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Desperate times call for desperate measures.
That’s what they say, right?
Well, I guess it must be true because I’m desperate.
And I’m about to take desperate measures.
That’s why I’m standing at his door, preparing to face him. Even though we are no longer what we used to be. Even though he doesn’t love me as he once did.
The girl he loved is no more, she vanished.
So did he.
Both gone with the wind, left behind in the mists of time.
We grew up, moved on.
But just when it seems there’s nothing left between us, there comes a second chance.
A whisper that grows, won’t be ignored, can’t be ignored as it ensnares us, entwines us.
Whispers of love.
Whispers of my skin.
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