In my vision she flares like sulphur, Burning shapes into my eyes. A shape thats almost like her, Dead embers stoked, arise.
I take my steps towards her, Aged desires, impulse. You stand in perfect portrait, An image akin, yet false.
As if she's placed behind you, A window marred with dirt. Softly you look towards me, A smile that hints comfort.
I know that you are not her, She has left this earth in flame. But If asked with gentle whisper, I can forget you're not the same.
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