Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A Secret, wrapped in a question

No one gets me quite like you. Quite like me, I said I see. As if ever it were true still, I learn and learn and learn until. Chip, Chip, Chip. We chip away at time, biding it still and claiming our own. Its not yours and is certainly not mine, for we match it not in color or tone. Not shape nor thing that could be true, to take those precious moments from you. For you I bleed out all of me so that you may live eternally. For death has never been my kin, but other lives that dwell with in.

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