He wants you back he screams into the night air, like a fireman going to a window that has no fire, except the passion of his heart. I am loney! It's really hard! This poem . . . sucks.
So lately I've been realizing how very many cool little trinkets I have that Kathrine gave to me. I have also been noticing that they rather painfully (though sometime wistfully) remind me of her
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