So this is how it ends, then —
Not with thunder, not with rain,
But with a sentence cold and plain,
And me, standing in the ache again.
I had said, “This is my last try,”
With every ounce of love and cry,
Swore on the ones I hold most dear,
Still, you chose to disappear.
You didn’t fight, not even flinch,
You let...
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