Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Maybe Someday

When I was young I'd fight to throw away my projects when they were finished. It wasn't that I didn't want or like them, but I knew I could do better and that was all that mattered. You did the same thing with me about writing, my letters, my hope - only I never won a fight with you unless I wanted words spewed from your perfectly parched lips. Not that I'd ever really know what they were like. I should have listened when I was young.

Maybe if I had, you'd still be here. 

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