Through him she breathed.
If she were an artist, he was her paintbrush.
If she were a bird, he was her wing.
And if she were a candle, he was her flame.
He was her catalyst for potential. And through that she thrived.
If she were an artist, he was her paintbrush.
If she were a bird, he was her wing.
And if she were a candle, he was her flame.
He was her catalyst for potential. And through that she thrived.
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