I wanted to write something for you but the words haven't come so easy recently.
Maybe I could've finished it tonight, if I'd put some real effort in, but that was never us and I'm not about to change things now.
This is a promise that it's coming. That I'm working on it. That I want it to be perfect for you.
Your name is wonder
awaking in a fucking summer dawn
and youth
that dying
taught my lips to mourn.
Miss you, kiddo.
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