Tragic Blessing

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I am sorry for making you second-guess my feeling towards you. The truth of the matter is I am far from perfection.  I eat, drink, and breathe, but not perfectly. Instead I leave crumbs, spill on occasion, and sometimes gasp for air. My love is here but not perfect. I write eloquently but speak inarticulately. I am a hot-mess in a cold night. I am your tragic blessing.

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