v. To fall out of love, a bittersweet feeling.
The sound of your name on the tip of my tongue, no longer, the shape or weight that it once was.
my love, you’ve always had a way of digging in deep, but now the winter has come and the grizzly’s fast asleep.
Our time has come, like the outcome of a loaded gun. The finite time between, the trigger and blood.And we’re in the waiting room, fated for the bad news, and when the doctor comes, tells us what we’ve already knew.
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