April was the time of new beginnings. You brought me the bottle i could hide my pain in. I stuffed it in a bottle so far and you held it. Whenever I couldn't take it any more you'd hold me close as I held my pain slipping slowly out of the bottle overflowing like my eyes on your shirt. I remember the feeling of you and how you carried me onto May. The jar got smaller and less important and you became the happiness I showed through bright hazel eyes. Your strong arms. Around me. The jar is empty.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpt from a Book I will Never Write
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