It's worn out hard, your mouth full of blood and teeth and hard-earned everything, everything, and the pulse that kept it going, kept me going, keeps me going. You wanted me to write you something, didn't you? I'm leaving it open; my vein and this, because you didn't have the word that would break my signal. Leave me something. Tell me it's good,
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I am really sorry, but I actually have no clue who you are but you're on my Friends' List.
I read your entry. I love it. I didn't blink once fearing I'd loose the connection from your words. Your message. You.
-*Brian Castiglione*
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It's elise. I'm here, again.
And I'm adding you, again.
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