last week,
i tried burning all your letters,
in a bucket on my porch,
the gasoline got on my jumper,
i guess ill never know,
if your dad had beat that cancer,
tried to ask you on the phone in May,
but couldn’t bare the answer,
because
weak i am,
i tried burning all your letters,
now they’re drying on my clothesline,
and I’m banking on the weather,
to stay good
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