Then she asked me why this was so important to me
and well, I told her it wasn’t just important to me. It was a part of me. And I wrote about her too. I wrote about her auburn hair, her beautiful brown eyes her dimples in her cheeks I kept writing about her because I couldn’t see her anymore. You see, she was gone, just like me. She never quite understood what I meant until she wrote things too. I wrote on paper, her canvas was her wrists I used pencils as she finally quit. Sadly, her blades spoke to her as the pencil speaks to me. And soon enough, she took her own life, Leaving us behind to grieve to mourn to ask why And I found her and the note she wrote. “Toss my ashes in the sea so I can finally be free,” GS
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