Silverado
Three hundred and sixty five days ago, your pain ended and mine has yet to find a meaning to it. Twelve new moons and twelve fulls moons have robbed my time away but none have been able mend my daily reminder that you are no longer here. The waking nightmares of your body laying so peaceful in the casket. Knowing that deep down inside, monsters ate at you.
The monsters that eventually clawed at…
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