I'm coming closer, now. I'm beginning to hear them both - those months spent curled into my heartbeat did not deafen me, did not kill me. My happiness is a well, and it has water at the bottom, like a floor. Ripples on the graphs, music in my skull, a filament enlightenment born from it all. You won't be happier then. You won't be made whole. But darling, my truest darling, slowly, you inch closer to the moss - slowly, you listen.
©another
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