unnamed piece
In my pointless existence, my only purpose, you, my beloved. I peek at your lips and listen intently as if I was your devoted disciple and you the high priestess (of my heart) (...). I seek words as they clash within the depths but alas I remain a mere spectator. I wish for another's prayer to help me surge feelings within you awaiting my purpose to bloom But, in the same prayer, beg that this longing remains a mere wish, untouched, neglected but still burning ardently like Troilus's love.
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