All things end, some in their time, some before. Tragedy does not discriminate.
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I meet you here, in another world, and we touch without touching. There are few words exchanged and I never know when these moments will occur. These random connections are all that remain, and I am often left confused and hurt. Living in a world without you, I settle for a dreamscape where everything is subject to interpretation and chance.
I think
that sometimes
when the wind is howling
and everyone finds refuge
in quieter places
that same wind
furious and mean
allows for random leaves
brought together by accident
to intertwine
and revel
with discovery