This Kind of Love

This kind of love is deadly,
this kind of love is trite,
this feeling dwells in starless places,
this feeling deepens the night,
your legs wrap around my waist,
my hands wrap around your throat,
the catch of breath, the empty confessions
divulging much and no truth of note:
I love you,
I love you,
and lesser lies;
I love you,
I love you,
and these constant,
(supposedly) final
goodbyes

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