Missing 3

When we part
be it in days, or in decades,
or in the unguessable years between,
I will breathe sorrow instead of air,
while in my veins, every joy we have known
will still nourish me.
When we part,
be it through death, or sickness,
a change of heart, or impossible fate,
the sun will dim,
while the stars will still spell out the names of our love.
Already, so much joy.
Already, so many stars.

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