Nothing endures my presence. I'm loosing track of the memos imbedded into my skin. Infections, healed over with safety pins. I'm never going to be the nuturing mother until I live in a world we're destruction is beauty and brokens just a word for change. I'm surrounded by dead things, dead wood. Moving, thinking deadness. And in all this I wonder
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p.s. I hope you are still coming to kickball this weekend.
You rock my socks, keep smiling.
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All my heart,
Brian
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-Melissa
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