Remember Me
A writer a loss for words,Much like an artist with no canvise.
These blue lines I write upon are merely imaginary,
For these are my veins.
With every touch of my pen these words seem to melt; transforming into a liquid state.
Flowing, circulating.
They seem to always find a way back to my core.
No matter how drastic the measures my chest will forever rise and fall.
What you see before you will make me immortal.
~H.C.
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