If you were here beside me instead of in New York...If the curve of you was curved on me, I’d tell you that I loved you before I even knew you, cause I loved the simple thought of you. If our hearts are never broken and there’s no joy in the mending, there’s so much this hurt can teach us both. Though there’s distance and there’s silence, your words have never left me. They’re the prayer that I say every day. Come on, come out, come here, come here. The lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean and the fire that was starting to spark: I miss it all, from the love to the lightning. And the lack of it snaps me in two. Just give me a sign, there’s an end and not beginning to this quiet chaos driving me mad. The lone neon nights and the voice of the ocean and the fire that was starting to go out.
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