If my tears are to blame for the sorrows of the rivers in your heart, I must not fall apart, but to smile and wake another day, knowing I still linger somewhere in you. It is a cliff with thousands of deaths, but these are the deaths I own to love; the ones I created by blood and time. There are still nights where I wander down the empty streets when I feel lonely; you are not here anymore, but I am not alone with you in the theaters of my mind. Then, there are dark hours when I will pass by your house and see the lights of your room burning; I will cry solemnly. My mindless spine will walk me home empty handed, but my heart is filled with content that at least I have seen the lights of your room. But, dear, oh my dearest, I hope it is enough.
WORD COUNT: 153
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