I can see his eyes,
Looking through  mine,
Searching for something,
Something that his heart craves.

I can feel his heart,
Pumping harder each moment,
The beats sound ancient,
Like they were made to last.

I can feel his hand,
On my forearm,
They’re gripping so tightly,
Like they’re afraid to let go.

I can feel his lips,
Brushing on mine,
I can feel the love,
Eternal and true.

I can feel his immortality,
By every growing second,
His heart slows down,
His eyes grow weary,
His hands become scabbed,
His lips become tawny,
His soul becomes old,
And one day he has to return home.

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