Twenty-Eight

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She's gone. It still hasn't even clicked. I still think abut holding her and think about kissing her.

It's been about three months and I still cry myself to sleep every night, wishing she was there for me to hold. Wishing she'd walk into my room at any moment and hold me, whispering to me that everything's going to be alright.

Everything was going to be alright though. She was no longer  in pain. She no longer has to deal with life's dangerous turn of events.

This was the story of us. And although it was short, it is my favorite story. And this is the closing chapter.

Yet it still occurs to me that she's never going to enjoy life's pleasure. Like getting a tattoo. Or getting a dog. Or even being a mother. Things I hoped to have done with her before we eventually met with death together.

But that won't happen now.

I'm fine though. She would've wanted me to move on. And although I will, my heart will always be with her.
















I love you al...





















The end

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