The further I go,
The closer I am.
The more I get,
The more I miss.
From whence did you come
And wisk me away
Only to hold me captive
And cause me to sit in wonder?
Why do I succumb to you, only to stand distant?
I writhe as a butterfly in a maelstrom,
Unable to utter a word,
For fear that your crystalline soul
Be once again encased in granite
And my soul is cast aside.

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