Yellowed envelopes with stamps from a dozens countries. Neatly filled with letters that no longer smell of perfume. Dog-eared and smudged from countless readings. All bearing the socially-approved heartbreak of contentment and faint praise. Not even allowed plausible deniability of 'Return to sender''. With heavy creases, and shaking hands, I fold the leftover pieces of my heart, and mail them to a make-believe address.
4:22 p.m. - 2021-03-17
Recent entries:
If Only Once - 2021-04-09
Been A While - 2021-03-31
Ghost Sting - 2021-03-25
The Illusion of Authority - 2021-03-17
There Was Never Anything - 2021-03-17
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