Loving her meant showing up.
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We define ourselves.
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Time to rest. Celebrate your last harvest.
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Like children, we picked at scabs. Our scars faded only with age.
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Stone on stone. . .
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We were all caught. . .
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old formulas don’t always add up
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I lick salt from parched lips
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Another night alone, I wrap myself in shadows.
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beginnings and endings
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“Gra-Gra, are you going to die? “ Five-year-olds and death defy natural law.
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