A Hopeful, Final Form

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​I do not sleep, because I worry I will only dream of you.
And I have not written, because I worry I will only write about you. 

To be changed so irrevocably by someone, by something. To be irreversibly altered by a love so profound that you left feeling nothing, and I have been incapable of leaving at all. To be changed. To be unable to forget. 

To be changed, and changed, and changed until there are no more shapes left for me to take.

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