I feel so lost, so adrift.

And if only you’d love me again. If only the silver line was more than an intangible psychological consolation. I want to forget the white noise; purge the voices that mumble and break. I’m waiting on the Second Coming of Perfection- waiting on you. 

It’s past after-hours and I’ve melted into the floorboards waiting for a manifestation of heaven on Earth to fling me into sublime oblivion, to cast me into the ether.

Notre Dame Cathedral Stained Glass Window

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