You go on about our salvation and I point to the heavens. Just a gesture, but something else clings to your thoughts and drives you further from me. Wildfires flushing life from the brush. Beginnings like comets, shooting stars like wishes, burgeonings, outcrops that hang, a shadowy precipice in curtains veiling temptations. Icy tendrils, incurring
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I'm sorry I didnt have the courage.
*kisses your forehead*
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