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Sunlight filtered through the windows lighting up your honey colored eyes.

Your shirt is pulled up and I can see your ribs poking through your pale skin as you yawn.

Lips spreading into a smile, you stare at me and I can’t help but to smile.

Sitting up you pull me into a tight embrace, your messy hair tickles my collarbones and I giggle.

A hushed “I love you” in my ear and kisses on my jaw follow soon after.

As you pull away I think you look like a king and I tell you.

Over and over and over again, I told you for months, I didn’t think I’d ever stop telling you.

Coffee for me and tea for you comes next but I can’t take my eyes off you.

I think you you look like a king, you could’ve been a king.

Joint showers purely because I missed you.

Running barefoot after you for one last goodbye kiss with disapproving glances from the neighbors, I didn’t care. I had you.

Running through the motions you’re the only thing on my mind, maybe when you get home I’ll tell you.

Opening the door to greet you I tell you but your eyes look like brick now.

Sad smiles are all I get in return, I ask what happened and you explain.

I feel drained when you finally tell me and tears drip down your parchment skin.

You apologize twenty-seven times, I counted in between telling you it wasn’t your fault.

I don’t think your eyes looked like honey again until November and we know what happened then.

I wouldn’t let go of you, as they tried to take you away.

I didn’t understand how you could do that to me, just because of some comments about your sexuality and a job. It was just a job.

I just kept sobbing and telling them that you were supposed to look like a king, you didn’t look like a king anymore.

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22 Aug, 2018
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