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First back in so long.

If we spend each second thinking,
and every moment breathing,
Then why do we become wordless,
and short of wind?

Every lungful of crisp air,
Lingering softly on your lips,
Races swiftly within,
Giving life to my so weak heart.

Searching for the meaning,
Longing for you,
This is a pleasure,
Of more then our flesh.

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