to heal and to grow.

And the hearts the reason why. It’s always “why”. It’s always what you spit out when you say “what if”. What if I were that way, what IF I’d done this. It was never the right way if you were always cursin’ and spittin’ and making your head split about all this same old type of bull shit.

Sometimes thoughts of you, you in the past make an ache in my stomach so great, you just want to drop whatever your carrying, however wide, and worrysome you may be about letting go. but the thoughts always retreat to that great infinite answer of “no”. it’s the love that was lost, the love that was meant to be buried, buried in a hole so deep that even if you tried to dig it up years later, it’d still be covered in mounds of moist, motionless dirt. Soil that seemed so soft, so many years ago.

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