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Despite the
Idea of being
Together, I
Find myself
Being drawn
Inward, to
Myself, the
Warmth I
Look for
Being found
There, and not
With you.

Any source of
Heat, though, I
Will soon give
All I have, and
Will need to
Find such warmth
Elsewhere, though
I only look
Between us, and,
I know I
Will find but
Kindling, needing
Stoked, as
Would any fire
Let be started
In the cold rain
Of discontent.

Why fear Death?

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