But what I would give just to have someone ask
If I was good and safe
After the wuthering storm.
And joy is always borrowed, stolen, taken
There is never quite enough love to go around
At least, for the rest..
For me
All this devotion was rushing out of me
And bled me dry
There are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
Worlds will go on turning without me
But I like to pretend that some worlds would pause
For a heartbeat when I am gone
And rain will make the flowers grow.
Inspired by A Little Fall of Rain from Les Miserables
Click here for a discussion of A Little Fall of Rain
Click here for a discussion of A Little Fall of Rain
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