Σάββατο 10 Ιουνίου 2017

The truth hurts but so do most other things. I dreamed about you but you were nothing like yourself. When I woke up, I tried to call you to tell you the world wasn’t as bad as we thought but if I ever knew your number, it escaped me in that moment. I hope you forgive me my forgetfulness. I get it from my country. (Or else the ones who did this to my country. I can’t remember which.) I heard from someone that the sky makes room for some things but not for others, and I can’t help but think that my limbs don’t bend the right way. And anyway, I hope you’re happy after all. And I hope the sad poems don’t make any sense to you, kid, I hope you never have to understand. And I’m sending my love. You’ll recognize it by the way it takes up all the elbow room in your new house. (Sorry about that. It’s something I’m working on.) I hope you sleep well, old friend. I hope you wake up and everything that’s ever been taken from you is returned to you in full.


Mr. J.H Found on Your Doorstep, 8 pm on a Saturday

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