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letra de postcard - my fictions

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your postcard wasn’t postmarked, it hangs right above my bed and photos of you still hide in each drawer of my desk. and each time i answer my phone, there’s a call i’ll never get. it makes no sense. i can’t focus anymore. i’m dodging landmines in my mind. and if i fall into a trap, it’s like i go right back to feeling hopeless instead of just deprived. i’m stuck waiting for good news and trying to improve. i’m living healthy, but i’m not well. and i think i’ve apologized enough times to expose the fact that i can’t ever forgive myself. it’s in the stars themselves, i can see them here from h-ll: years away, nothing ever stays, but it hurts. it just blooms and bursts, it just blooms and burns – nothing stays, and it hurts

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