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… I could stand some more friendly faces. Tired of this drought. Sick of being put through the paces. Of asking for love and it all coming to nought… of no give and only take, feeling no love and only hate. Jealousy is no indication of affection, only disrespect. So I say this with no ill intention, you hold in me no sort of regard.

Filed under: Art, Poetry, Writing Tagged: breaking point, end, love, Poet, poetry, relationships, Violet Yates