Though they're often meant to bind,
Words can seem to say or find
What divides the auras, two
Of mere consciousness, me and you.
Through the cracked and peeling walls
I hear your whisper, hear your calls
Like a sullen being, denied
of breath, and tears, those which I cried.
Through the rattle of the rain
Upon your shattered windowpane
My heart beats fast
Races past,
Run-in last.
But just so you know,
I'm not letting you go.
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