Love letter # 250
I hear your song everywhere. It sings beneath the fray. It hovers behind the unending clamour – like memory – waiting to be dislodged. It is the rhythm of breath; so often unnoticed. It is the subtle scent of the ground, trampled by the hectic air. It is always there.
Somehow, you are inside me. By some magic I have yet to fully fathom, this blood is also yours. You run like a river, wild beneath my skin – and I am a pebble rolling. But as long as I end up in the ocean with you …
As long I am near enough for whispers. As long as I can hear you sing.
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