Deshea Surratt

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“Does your little boyfriend know he doesn’t stand a chance yet?” Just when I think his resolve can’t get any worse.  “I don’t belong to you. And unlike my song, I’m not something you can steal.”  “You’re right.”  I hold my breath. Is he finally admitting it? My bubble of hope pops when his lips curve into a pompous sneer. “I can’t steal something that’s already mine.”  
The Words
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