He was good with numbers and amused by politics. Figured it was worth a shot to major in economics in the next summer. Two days ago I heard him telling his older brother he wanted to have two kids with the nice girl down the street; the one with the pretty smile who talked like her mama done raised her well.
Last night he said he was going to use his first salary to buy a gift for his mama.
Today he’s just a hash tag.
A bunch of repetitive words leaping out at me like it would bring him back.
There is more hatred here than there are bodies to feel.
I want to make love to hope but despair stirs in my loins. I stifle it and think it dead, but it just sleeps.
We’ve been taught how to heal our wounds, but never how not to get…
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