a smell. the memory of a person so strong it floats like a ghost, perhaps more real than the absent party. and now she is real to me again, no longer some idea locked in the back of my brain. now that she is real again once again i feel the empty space within myself where she once existed
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sorry. i find it funny. i am a bastard. love you.
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Clue it is!! You don't have to construct for me to love you!
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