I used to feel you in night. How the clouds touched the waves and the way you said alright. I still feel your hair, I still see you there. In corners of doorways, wandering to wander. It was never about you. It was never about I. It was about we. The stimulation of brains to pulse towards. Some things seem of importance to some while importance lies in the eyes of the beholder. Neither are wrong, but time is only enough for some.
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