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Live to write, writing to live. Do good by being good at it. Love concurs all.


How is this happening I blame you, for blaming me.
Ours is a enemy preying on the week. Most people go through their whole lives not knowing they exist. We may Loose a battle from time to time, yet predestined to finish the race.
Has to much time gone by, our chances have yet to be been waisted.
You can't quit, not without a fight. It can't be over God forbid. When I say that I love you, I do cross my heart.
How can we forget one another, the very act of love is still there.
I think about it, think about how this all came to be. I understand just a consequence to our actions. It seems that you view me as if nothing has changed. Like I wouldn't get tired . I told you some day this day would come. Where I would have to walk away from this man whom I love.
Is it to late to reconcile what we have. Hold on to the little that is left. Live with regrets for not giving it our all. There's a fork in the road. Staring from the outside of the box looking in. At the fence where your lard and mine meet. Both have grass that's greener but neither are greener from the other side.

© 2018 Stacy Ingram vizcarrondo

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