
Out there, it's cold The wind cuts through the paths Cunning,winning Knocking down walls that hide doubtful laughter Ripping out scabs before their span Pressing down hurt against the chest In your arms there's a warmth A brilliant maze I was meant to complete The destination of a desire that was never hidden A map designed by a trained hunter of treasure Well polished a million seconds in the pressure When I need you I feel a tether A see-through vein that bleeds your heart into mine A seaside rain that fills the vacant mind
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