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  • I will find you shut into some empty forest cabin,
    angry and alone
    trying to rid your skin of any memory of me.

    you have no choice.

    But remember, my love
    I am not fire.

    (Remember this.)

    If this is the only thing that you can remember.
    If this was the only intended meaning.
    If this is my life's work.
    The only thing I was intended to do.
    If we can not speak.
    If we have no more words to say.

    Our love will consume like fire and die
    Burn up like the stars and explode brightly before death.
    It will be intense and loving.
    Filled with so much care that it can not sustain itself
    burst forth because of the exact nature of it's beauty.

    The smoke from the eruption will create
    dark beautiful shapes
    gliding away into the night
    we lay on cold stone floor
    too tired to move or speak
    but witnessed together.

    Yes, she remembers.
    She does not make excuses for loving you.
    Or hide it in her belly.
    She sings and cries for knowing you.
    Radiates when you are near.

    You are her.
    And she is you.

    So we take great care.
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