Time is the enemy of love, The thief that shortens All our golden hours. I have never understood then Why lovers count their happiness In days and nights and years, While our love can only be measured In our joys and sighs and tears.
growing up is never easy. you hold on to things that were. you wonder what's to come. but that night, i think we knew it was time to let go of what had been, and look ahead to what would be. other days. new days. days to come.. [selfpossession]
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