Póthos
I'm ok now.
Mostly, that is. I still think about you. Sometimes it feels like you never left: Stalking the fringes of my dreams.
Yearning never truly fades. Only I grow deaf to it, sometimes. Understanding follows pain, at least.
Mostly, that is. I still think about you. Sometimes it feels like you never left: Stalking the fringes of my dreams.
Yearning never truly fades. Only I grow deaf to it, sometimes. Understanding follows pain, at least.
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