A riddle whispered, known but to the one
The Answer breathes, and only they may seize.
If blind, they tremble; if revealed, undone.
The memory of You, a haunting breeze
That steals into the solitary mind,
A constant ache, a reason to despair.
The hidden tears, a solace left behind,
Erasing all, and leaving only air.
The story etched, a restless brand upon
The brow, a map of all that will not cease.
A truth that chokes, until the morning's dawn,
And lingers, trapped, in whispered, silent peace.
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