VISUAL PROMPT

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Cold Hands

We always loved to lie in this grassy field Only the two of us, only you and I. Bating our breath for what the future would yield We would stay for hours, our hands intertwined, Sharing promises we vowed to always keep, Just me and you and the fireflies. And as I felt your hand grow weak with sleep, I made a promise that only I could hear: Your heart, dear love, was mine to protect and keep. Yet all the vows we made, at the time so clear Were soon reduced to broken shards and hot ash. I damned you, betrayed you, succumbed to my fear. I despise this grassy field, this mem’ry past. My frigid hand remains empty, missing yours And the shattered promises we thought would last.
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