Dear Lover,

This is written on the fragile parchment paper of your heart. It’s a letter from me to you, written in ink that dreams of permanence but knows its fate is to dissolve into the fibers of what is already whole. What can the etching of ink ever do beside attempt to stain(in ignorance) the whiteness of what’s ever so pure, pristine, untouched and eternal? Please remember this for as long as you remember me.

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