The Risk of Believing
My own longing too often fabricates my history. Did you love me? That will remain a question I alone can never answer. For my heart’s perception exclaims “yes!” while the true reality, untouched by my desire, remains hidden from me and may hold my deepest disappointment. So I continue gazing at the dazzling threads of my soul, weaving a tapestry of dreams and risks, singing a song of enchantment. But perhaps the magic was never you, only my blind willingness to believe.
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