the height of the forgotten,
the measure of what has been
lost, the economy of silence
and the darkness of cacophony,
the ache that bleed and coil
in thoughtlessness, hanging
on to the mercy of your
being's beginning and end,
the promise of clutching
to the tethers of your love,
fiber by fiber, era by era,
to find you at last searching
for one like me, only me,
only you and us and we.
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