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I remember the treehouse,
It's been a year, but
I still wonder often if...
Funeral homes are colder than usual
in late spring...
She reads the text for the 10th time:
I have been drinking your poison.
And just when I think it's the end...
Even the hardest hearts weaken at the sound of the right words.
Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future.
Some memories are etched into our souls with smoldering, rugged daggers.
and there are days when the scars bleed out; we become weak.
forever . . unwillingly remembering.
Â© Liz M.
by Gracy Judith