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When he buried my mother, with me still in the hospital, he buried a part of himself – the part that told jokes, that smiled, that hugged.
puffs and struggles that bring them from day to day and back again
bring myself to say god is good god is good god is good god is good god is good god is good
You interruptwith confrontations of your ownthe same words, lips, sounds...
I can't find happiness without reading a simple "Hello" from you.
It feels like I only have a small amount of happiness that I can hold.
Dedicated to Pat, see you on the other side brother.
up and up ash rose as bats around the form of man arms, hairy neck and face, mouth tasted it nose inhaled it eyes watered into it the ears did nothin…