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Sh Jul 2020
Growing up, we know one day we'll die.

One single time.

They've never prepared us for when the first is not the last,
soul ripping out while we're still breathing.
A heart beats to the rhythm of what's now missing.

Darling, when you'll die a piece of me will go with you,
as I will mourn the deaths of both of us,
Until we will be reunited again in the endless oblivion
It can be read as such, but it is not an inherently romantic poem/ inherently about a romantic partner

— The End —