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saturday nights lay, drizzled in black honey
lost touches and yellow pages
blessed with the romance of fallen ink
that can't even capture
the space behind your eyes
am i the only one that sees you?
can i hold all the space in your heart
to make it bigger for whatever stays with me?
does all the air
gently creeping into my lungs
not only serve to fill yours
when they fail?
do my eyes not only serve
to admire you
at your worst?
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