Craving
In the quiet hush of midnight’s air,
A longing pulse, sharp and rare.
Shadows stretch, the hunger grows,
For something lost that no one knows.
It flickers deep within my chest,
An ache for more, a restless quest.
The world is silent, yet I yearn,
For touch, for warmth, for hearts that burn.
Craving is a whispered plea,
A wish for what may never be.
Still, I reach with trembling hands,
Toward hope that craving understands.
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