Everyday became for you in some way, somehow, you became my mirror, my interior. It wasn’t infiltration because I welcomed what you thought. Or what I thought you thought, which is really just what I thought.

Let me be your accurate reflection. Question me, What I want from you is the shock that comes with my third-person point of view. Blind yourself and let me describe your details, sculpt you from the rubble of what you deem your negative angles into my own version of a perfect thing, because when I met you I met myself too.

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