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A part of me struggles but you still tolerate my frailties, I believe there will be no longer indulgence in me once you perish. Darling, it has been too long since I sought for reasons why you stood for my misery, yet, I am still fumbling to comprehend it. The entombment of the old us is almost full—even the vacant spaces are most likely to be flowered by blossoms—because we always have a way of getting reborn as lovers again. Even in every
dimension, I believe I will still kiss your bitter lips and hold your cold fingers.
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@NEVERADEBOT (𓅅) PROMISED TO BE A DEVOTION CHAMBER, SELECTIVELY CHASING FOR NEW COLLEAGUES.
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But we loved with a love that was more than love, with a love that the winged seraphs of heaven, coveted her and me. (Edgar Allan Poe)