Friday, 15 June 2018

Life In This Hell, Where Everybody Is Or Isn't Going Swell

I'm sorry, but I can't visit you anymore, your husband looks as if he's at death's door, my eyes find his face and then immediately drift away to trawl the floor. I don't know what to do, I'd really love to see you, but mortality and slow decay is more than I can handle. I think that I will have to take your picture down from up upon my mantle.

I love you but to your memories you no longer hold a candle.

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