You, yearn for a return to days gone by. I, cry for a future that can not be. Yet, in the moments between past gone and yet to come, There is only us. Our touch shared. Our desire dared. Our pain bared. We come together as whispers, Slipping softly through the daggers of the forbidden, Weaving along the cloths hung to hide the starkness Of cold, stone prisons. Riding a wave of sound and breath of air, We pass, and in our passing, we know ourselves. We know that what must be, must be. For Winter can not hold onto Summer, Any more than Spring could contain Fall. Though the secret cries for release, The dream dies, And fades, And drifts away. For such is the way with whispers, And winds, And dreams.
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haha <3
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You, yearn for a return to days gone by.
I, cry for a future that can not be.
Yet, in the moments between past gone and yet to come,
There is only us.
Our touch shared.
Our desire dared.
Our pain bared.
We come together as whispers,
Slipping softly through the daggers of the forbidden,
Weaving along the cloths hung to hide the starkness
Of cold, stone prisons.
Riding a wave of sound and breath of air,
We pass, and in our passing, we know ourselves.
We know that what must be, must be.
For Winter can not hold onto Summer,
Any more than Spring could contain Fall.
Though the secret cries for release,
The dream dies,
And fades,
And drifts away.
For such is the way with whispers,
And winds,
And dreams.
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