It's not part of me, it's a part of life with a bitter taste. I don't know about him, but I can't take pictures or videos of those days. It seems to me to destroy the past years with the memories and the outgoing memories, to destroy a period of my own life.
I really tried. I wanted to burn your photo! Yeah, yeah, that's the hardest thing. You shoot the tip of a photo of two of you with a single noise of your lighter, and those deep eyes that you look at each day with love; You are watching the skin that you are used to absorb into the smell turns into a black ash pile.
Your tears drip from your cheeks. Life stops for a minute. You won't feel your heart beating or breathing. You're willing to be crushed under that burden just to never see that face again. The post? Only your tears are diner.
You think you forgot about him, but all you've done is maybe you're used to his absence. The embroidery has been embroidered to your soul, as if it were the ash that turned into a stack of ash. As long as you live you can not delete it.
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