Everything had happened so quickly; I know that body so alienated and I could not fit you in any way that 4 letters two syllable that word.
I touched him the last day before he was buried, but when I kissed him I understood. It's almost two years every day is worth a hundred years.
Now; It's raining outside, I'm still in my mind corners. My window is fogging, I'm whispering to the damp glass. Whispering that causes a few drops to flow. A one-word whisper grows, a huge scream; The storms are in me. Out of the wind blowing, trembling with the leaves in the trunk of the trees, shaking. The roots will be intact, not toppling.
I'm like trees when I'm through each other, this place is warm. But a place in me is cold with the winds of its absence, my body is shaking, my self is shaken. Then I remind myself; He's always in it.
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