The edges,
this is where
you'll find
her.
Where
he lies,
breathing
just beneath
the surface.
The surface,
where she knows
she should
be.
That is only
where
she sometimes
wanders,
on nights
she can't sleep.
And so,
you will find her
here,
with me,
on pages,
lost long ago.
In the margins,
on the tips
of a pen,
where she
knows
she'll
find him.
The stories,
they write themselves,
don't they.
The story
of who they
are,
what they've
become.
My salvation,
your fantasy.
Their test,
of my sanity,
her
existence,
his
faith,
I find them
there.
The sounds,
of
echos,
their voices,
in my
head.
That's what I
hear,
when I sit
here.
That
repeating
pattern,
of love,
courage.
Pain.
THIS,
this is who I
am.
Them.
I.
Am.
Them.
And they,
are
me.
So,
here
we
go
again.
The beautiful
lullabye,
the peace I feel,
when I feel
you.
Close to me,
once again.
Their embrace,
the sirin call,
the future
I can
see
from here.
The one
they promise
me.
The one
I choose
to
believe,
is true.
The one,
where
I
always
end up,
with
you.
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