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Even With You Here
Presence doesn’t lift the darkness. Rain brings brief ecstasy; nostalgia opens a tunnel; loneliness keeps its grip. At dawn, confusion lingers—and a hidden confession: I cry for you, in silence.
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The Arrival of Your Absence
A refrain of days and nights that were “fine” until absence arrived. A return, a disguise, the rain’s soil‑scent, smoke lifting—and the quiet claim of being one’s own again.