At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
I wrote her story because she wanted to live forever and I loved her far more with every word, too much! Even in death her life sought out beauty, for her moments were consumed with love and I could never write such a story without her stars flaming in my heart.
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I wrote her story because she wanted to live forever and I loved her far more with every word, too much! Even in death her life sought out beauty, for her moments were consumed with love and I could never write such a story without her stars flaming in my heart.
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