Short Stories
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Grief is never so much a thing to conquer, in as much it is merely felt, like a leaf that had strayed from its branch. It has nestled itself into our shoulder, and stays there, not vowed for escape. All tears carry weight, simple weight. All memories carry not weight, though force. We are not
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I Can he wait? Can he satiate a thirst that continues to mark his lips with the dryness of salt? In that, he is holding onto the ocean. He is washing himself in her running suds. A love as glorious as the only-believed infinity of the universe, becoming finite just when we comprehend life cannot
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Love is radiation. Intended to spread its presence over those trusting of it. What do we have of love, other than simple belief? We believe in love to do the right thing. It is never expected to manipulate, and then ask for something in return. Love, when denied, creates Hell. One sinks, without love. One