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I close my eyes,
and the night becomes for me
a dark room;

the wind howls, persistent,
and in its whistle I discern your voice;

as it meets my lips,
I taste your own;

but the sun must rise
and the wind must cease

and I must remember
you were never that persistent,
nor that gentle.

As I leave,
I thank you for that moment,
a front-row seat to the deception,

for long ago
you promised me it would last forever,
and for me it has,
it does

BrevityQuest11 (138 words)

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