She makes me question every second I spend awake, she makes me regret every second I spend asleep.

Silence is never familiar, it is the icy husk to shed - the shallow home to long for. Something beyond our reach, something shattered by the enclosing fingers.

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She fills up the thin air between breathes, she burns down all the time I spend without her.

She pries me open and the world rushes in, she is a demand never met, a desire never forgotten.

Transient. . . Fleeting. . . My mind is but a fog.

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