The sad thing is, you are but a dream to me. No more real than the distant thoughts of typical college aged girl, wishing to be loved and kissed and to be asked to dance. And you forget that for moments at a time you can hold me, but at some point, perhaps today or tomorrow or sometime soon, I will wisp away like an evaporating tear. And just like that I'll be gone in your rear view mirror.
So do me this favor. Decide now, not later.
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