And if I don't, if I can't any longer-
would you haunt me
like you were a ghost,
would you pester me
and force those words
from my thoughts?
And if you do, I hope you don't-
thoughts will overthrow
what's been built and made.
It's not choice to strike
you down, to deny your light
in the dark tunnels of life.
And if you give up, you might-
still would I run through dark
and cold and damp, still will
my thoughts win and whisper
why I can't, why I don't want-
Why life tends to strike.
And your tendrils of light, no longer
shining as beckoning-
still would I wander the tunnels
darkness pleases my sight.
But when memory fades
so will my soul.
And when you leave, you will-
I will love you in memory still.
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