Your eyes were cold alas I still felt your warmth. Your confessions were so dark they burned through my skin alas I still didn’t break. Your mind was twisted alas I still stood my ground, not tangled within your branches – or, maybe I was too tangled to realise. But now secrets spill from your tainted hands and your tongue is a serpent, stringing metaphors around my throat and choking me; and I don’t trust you anymore.
— Fictional response to the title of this post.–
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