Our love, as the forging of ore,
Conceived in the womb where rocks draw breath,
Like magma coursing through time's veins,
A searing chaos consuming us,
Chemical reactions in a toxic sea.
Our love, a molten messenger,
Where elements and desires are spent and reborn.
We surrendered like minerals,
Tasting uncertainty, sharp and metallic,
Its remnants lingering on our lips.
A primal urge, a plea of fading embers,
Our love found us deposited in silent spaces,
In velvet darkness where souls cool and entwine,
Emerging transformed, with scars etched deep—
Copper-warm, nickel-bright, platinum-tinged.
Forged under passionate pressure,
The iron-strong bonds, shaped by erosion,
Revealing raw beauty beneath the surface.
Etched in the bedrock of our existence—
Settling as ancient dreamers,
A finite amount of ore.
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