'yes;
yes, martha, i'm afraid it's true'
'oh, james, but how can it be?'
'i'm truly sorry, my dear, but i must get going now; ask for whatever you want and miss abby will get it for you. i really am sorry, darling'
'i know james, oh, i know you are. good bye; may the war be kind on you.'
james perished, and eventually martha's love for him did too.
YOU ARE READING
high thoughts
Poetryjust some stuff i write when high (not particularly good and not exactly well written) TW: suicide and depression stuff
