There isn’t a chance,

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There isn’t a chance, or even a trace that there is an end, or that we’ve ever disconnected though the darkness feeds upon the other’s weak moments, and I do not fear like of the orphan child, we’re still here and our hearts still intertwined though our minds far from it.

Heart eaten: Heart’s emptiness and hollowness that yearns for it’s emptiness to be filled once again, and you’re filling mine, your heart pumping as if on an adrenaline rush, rushing your blood into my heart quickly, filling the emptiness with not of your control but your love which frustrates me, but assures me too, a beating heart assures me love till death.

Love, filling the empty spots, refilling the empty spots that I emptied for you in your need, the enmity  surrounding it starts to become filled with relaxation, yet still aware of what’s there, it’s beating, it’s constant.

You’re heart is mine, and mine yours, now letting the blood flow, let us go, to a better place, no more sorrows, no more thrashing waters, no more worries, it’s assured there’s no chance, no trace, no disconnection, fate holds our hands and tells us we’re in the great.

 

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