August 08, 2013


It rained through the whole night while pain kept vigil. She tried to drown her sorrows in words. She wrote tirelessly to forget all the memories that were now oozing out of the puncture.

"Grief has sticky rubber hands to cling on to your skin. And every time there is a death, the itch begins."

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© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall