His trace inhabits every fraction of my mind, lingering like a thousand dollar perfume, lurking quietly in the shadow of anticipations.

What would i sing, if he's every song? 

What would i speak, if he's my language?

What would i dream, if he's my only imagination?

Now that he ghosts and I am on my knees, I've been counting days in the loudest silence, wishing upon the heavy rain to cl...

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