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Tags: Souvenirs, For, You

The grief of a friend that doesn't know how to say goodbye. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Apr 14, 2013    Reads: 5    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


I recall the very first time you held me. I didn't want you to. I was jaundiced and you were gold, so I permanently diverged you of evitable contact. I couldn't stain you. Without consent, I felt the warmness of your exhale on my chest. There, I was baptized.

And to deny God is to deny we'll meet once more.


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