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Some candles burn even after the wick is the barest of nothings and long after most of the wax has melted and run.
True love never goes away. It leaves its marks long after the final curtain call.
After all the wounds, after all the scars, after everything what is left?
A candle-light vigil with so many many waxless candles that burn eternally.
Alas, with every light there is a shadow cast.
This darkness will not go, it will not pass.
Mine they both are forever more
