This empty space becomes the lines inside your face.nIt makes an atlas, tracing an accurate map of decades.nThey decay and fade away to form the crease of grey increasing in their place.nThe sunken shape that invades your pretty face is an oasis, a have for your mistakes.nLike a keepsake hanging about your fallow frame,nOur tiny planets massive weight enables our escape in sulphur and oxide,nSlow drives and long nights.nI'm in between everything.nnEverywhere and all the time I reside between the lines that dividenYour world from mine.nI'm in between everything.nI've been seeing *** recede at a slow and steady speed away from me...nnI'm in between everything.