hřbitov.
i dreamt of warm bread, a stomach of pleasantry. i dreamt of promises, our covenants. you opened up my soul, like the window and the curtains' bloody wail. you rolled away my stone, and found i wasn't home these days. i'd been resurrected. my heart's an empty core, an empty drawer with littered letters, little settlements of emotion. and you walked away with nothing, and i'm sorry for the vacancy. i'm sorry for the legacy. so long. be well.
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23 old applause
