I love them both. I love this world. Its hatred falls deaf to me: it was always right. You cannot lick the snot off your lover's nose, see her rub it in that motion you adore, and think there's anything we can't fix where it hurts us.
Tears as large as celestial globes, she justifies. If I ever hear that snuffling hurt sound again, my Darling, I'm afraid I'll take it as a sign to relinquish all cynicism and love the fuck out of you.
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