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Slipping
I think you're slipping, like the ice outside. I think I'm letting you slip, because our love can't be this wide. I always do this. Anyone who gets close enough to me to find the real me has to be pushed away. I think it's because I'm afraid of what they will think, of the real me. I say I want to marry you, but do I really? I lie to you because I lie to myself. This isn't what I wanted to happen, but it has to. I wish I could change me.
