Without You, within is just another of those rooms,
Perenially collapsible,
Where bruised taps gurgle forth dark anguish to be sucked in by the writer's quill;
This room, now become a Gothic museum, made by your absence utterly uninhabitable.
Perenially collapsible,
Where bruised taps gurgle forth dark anguish to be sucked in by the writer's quill;
This room, now become a Gothic museum, made by your absence utterly uninhabitable.
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