What if what we have is naught but a fleeting glimpse of something we may never feel,
A whisper of something we may never see.
Yet still,
Still, my lungs are but a gaping hole when you are not the breath that fills me.
Still, my lungs are but a gaping hole when you are not the breath that fills me.
When the dark night of my soul threatens to ensconse and envelop my existence,
You are the light I cry out to
You are the light I cry out to
To fill me and turn me into more of myself.
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