Too young to understand, but old enough to remember, you can’t process all the images that flash through your mind. When you try to think about that night, you’re weighed down by a grief that's heavier than the stars. Your mother is windblown ash that circles the world, until every trace of her fades. Your tears try to follow, but they’re lost
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Comments 17
This: Dad is lost too, even though he’s standing right in front of you. and this: and the only thing that anchors you to this world is safely tucked in your arms.
So very true!
*sniffs*
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Poetry.
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