it's good to be alone and sleeping the day away, feeling the tears dry on my face and my pillow, surrounded by all the warm, dusty, sweet-smelling rose colored, smiling ghosts of the people i have loved who have gone away. I'm feeling all the things I've been numb to today. With my eyes closed and a lump in my throat I watch photo after grainy photo of faded yellow smiles flash past on the back of my red eyelids. This is what things are made of. I won't open my eyes until tomorrow morning.
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