There is nothing going on. I took nothing you wanted. You can't have it back.
I write to make sense of things that dont make sense to me.
come back so i can say yes this time do it again now that i know what to call what you did this time i'll be ready i like it rough now and i'm done with romance i never met another man who loved me so much at first sight he had to hurt me to do it
That's point of writing: building what you need, right?
Someone Should Write Me a Love Poem but I'm Stuck Doing It Myself
Love - at least the pair-bonded, prescribed love - does not conquer all.