It’s going to be a sweltering Christmas. The greens of spring are burning into brown, dead again in a different way. But I feel alive. Mena and I are going to the beach. I’m getting tan, and we’re getting to know each other. It’s all as careless and perfect as a rough draft.
I know you’re not going to write me back, for whatever reason. I hope you’re alive and well. I hope you’re happy, and I hope that you teach to Isabel what you taught me. To live as much as you can.
I’ll still miss you sometimes.
Goodbye my love,
Me
Saturday, October 17, 2009
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1 comments:
you'd better miss ME biatch.
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