Dear Mommy,
When I close my eyes at night, is that really you I see? Not the phosphorescent Picasso dreams where everything may or may not look like stained glass in funny shapes, but those ones where it looks like you stole the idea from your father where you're sitting in the living room "just popping in to say hello and play catch up", and I
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How are you doing?
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That was so beautiful.
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