"And when I asked you how you'd been I meant I missed you more than I've ever missed anything before."
And that was where we left it.
When you're not here, the words unsaid have a way of fulfilling their rights to be heard, like a broken dam, unable to withold, unable to dictate the flow. Filling every space, washing away, mixing with the dirt from tears.
Is this how you'd leave it?
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