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these shallow glimpses we share
as days grow long
the scattered thoughts swirl and bury themselves
in crevices of this old house
to be re-awakened perhaps
when we are many years gone
what can we salvage of this eternal bond
while the Sun buries itself behind the Oak
that we've watched grow from the kitchen window
since the days when our hair was thick and dark
and the smell of fresh cut wood was present
what words can I say to bring tears to your eyes
tears that would come from but a glimpse
that shouted my fervent love
we are captives of our timeless, undying, unwavering hearts
yet all that remains of this diminishing soul
would disperse like the final slivers of light
should I lose you
My dear friend,

There's no answer in those bottles
Or those false bravados
There's truth in cliche mottos
But those answers are hollow
Unlike those pills you swallow
Because you're chronically suicidal
With no contrary to guide you
And no lover to confide to
So you'll just cram it all in a note in the hotel room they find you
Now you're only living through all the strangers you were kind to
The family that stood beside you
The hell you dragged their mind through
The lovers you had lied to
The crafts that you had fine tuned
The dark past behind you
And whatever state your mind looms now

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M. Whit
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