

So exhausted, so relieved, and yet unable to finish this sentence because of the deepening complexities, the tangled webs, the raw feeling that wraps itself intricately around some heart; for when fingers touch, a past is forgotten, a path is found in that accursed mist, never what you intended it to be, and holding on with a dying hope, diminishing, now you know; you see, always looking--
just looking...
now you don't.
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