I can stare down at this hand that once held yours and see flashes of all the stories we made to tell. But the thing about stories is they always have an ending and even though you are the verb to the noun that is me, I have to accept that our last page has already been read.
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That’s sadly beautiful…
Ironic, isn’t it
it is :/ (not sure that’s the right smiley, I want something wistful and confused)
looks more like concern over eating too many brownies
:D !