“It is not my life I cling upon. It is yours. I possess no heartbeat. I reveal no true movement of my limbs. Should you ponder, then I wonder on your thoughts. Should you fall, then I will, too. What is a life, if I have no love to cover it? My fears, my voice, the systems which allows my body to operate, are a nothingness, when I see you. A love, as what I feel for you, blankets my life, disrobes me of lonely purpose.”
– Modern Romanticism
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Modern Romanticism 