..and above all to difficulty
Once, long ago, I was heartbroken.
He looked at me and told me not to worry.
"It just takes longer for special persons to find the right one"
And though it was a cliché and he was a Latin lover, I was young and impressionable.
Suffices to say, it struck a chord.
But now I am starting to wonder.
How special can one person really be?
Did I just let those words define me because I liked their weight on my body?
Am I spoiled for life because I believed him?
And perhaps doomed to wander the world like this,
not knowing I am just like everybody else.
Only more difficult to please.
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