You don’t get past eleven years…
In a minute, an hour, or a lifetime.
My essence, you have, become.
No other callers will ever be an answer.
To the emptiness.
I feel.
Without you.
It may have been: time to end.
Still death.
No less painful.
Life’s creul river denying. Love.
Breath of life.
Still… I will always love you.
Without a shadow or doubt.
Embedded in my breath.
You will always be.
I prey.
You are happy.
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