i'm writing you a letter with my left
hand and you're reading it in the
dark.
The spark, is gone
in its place, a song.
burning in circles near the end.
(misspelling life all along.)
a trail, i have followed
stopping only to breathe
though i'm frail, mostly hollow
i've got something to be.
i have dreamed about the time
when our eyes dim subconsciously.
while we are letting down the walls
our fingers touch and then we meet
and then we meet.
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