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Absence leads a heart to wander.
And though I, which withstand the
change of days, stay,
you shift and break and scatter.
What shall I do my dear?
Chase and gather the fragments of you,
as I know that is what you wish?
I suppose I'm to put those pieces back together too?
I suppose again, that I shall do so without complain.
It's who I am.
And it's not who you want.




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