time is drying my veins, and so are you.
switching between memories is killing me, and it's killing you as well.
you suddenly disappeared from my bed, clinging into something that doesn't even exist.
if it never started, it doesn't have to end, does it?
and time dries my veins while making my eyes overwhelm.
and before you go, please don't make any promises.
do not kill the rest of me that still exists.
just go.
please don't go.
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