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Living is an inconsistent friend. How

funny to have found an equal, playing

time against my rhythms. Walking

is the beat of my abyss, a crystal

sequence weaves its way to end.


Death has met you. What it says,

can you hold it ‘til I join? Your eyes

were seeing, seeing constancy. Open

to a beauty you could carry when living-

time could meet the love you need.

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