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The Love She Never Had

Since she was young she has been waiting, longing for him to come.
One came and went again. Another came and went again. Never it was him.
And she waited. The passion burnt inside of her, burning to consume the one she was waiting for. But on the outside she was frozen.
Another came. She married, but it wasn't him who could melt the ice.
Days past and she waited, looking out the window when night fell.
Dreaming of the one she has been waiting for for so long. She did not know him. But she knew him so well. He would come with the storm violently.
She wished, she called the gods, she enchanted, asking to send him, violently as the storm to enter her life, sweeping her away with him.
The years past and she still had the passion burning inside of her, the vision of him entering her life. She was searching, calling out so desperately. Was he near?
And the days past, her children grew up and she aged. She was cold and old and tired, but on the inside she was still young. Was passion bound to youth? Had she lost it?

She is sitting in her house alone, aged and dreaming, still dreaming of the one who never came. And she still sits by the window, gone that which never was. She knows now that it will never be. Left is the dream, the dream of herself when she was young together with him, the one she never had...

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