Midnight Musings

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Whispers in the Mist

This is the time she hates the most

The early hours before dawn

When the world lies quiet and still

When his words come floating

Back to make her feel

And though when spoken

They sound very real

They still were just words

Beautiful and sweet to hear

Yet nothing more than

Whispers in the mist,

Fleeting, empty and cold,

Fleeing with the breaking of dawn

And the flowing of her tears.


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