February 2012
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January 2012
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December 2011
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Thought this was really pretty →
Anchors:
My dearest, You’ve missed so much since our parting. Trees grow weighted with afternoon teardrops in forgetfulness of the sun’s warmth. Mailboxes on our street, sad hang open, gaping monkfish through day, through each night refusing to close for no one but you. Those cracks…
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