It’s been a year, and tonight I feel your absence like its burning a hole right through my core, like I just swallowed the blistering sun– but I don’t shine. I’m writing tonight with a shaky hand, and raindrops fill the emptiness between the lines of this page, instead of ink. I’ve stolen from the moon and I’ve taken from the stars, in hope to fill the empty space you’re missing from. But not even they can make me feel the way you did. It’s nearing toward midnight and the redness in my lips is starting to fade, as I try my very hardest to remember, what I’ve been trying my very best to forget. It’s been the quietest year of my life, without your voice inside my ear drums. But it’s also been the loudest– with the silence that won’t stop screaming your name. I tried to erase the scars from my face and wash away the breaks in my bones with the years last snowfall, but the snowflakes didn’t want me to forget you. With glass in my hair and smoke under my skin, I left the snow covered trees to be on their own. Tonight it’s been a year, since I’ve felt the way I did– or felt anything at all. And I allow my heart to bleed out its very last story onto the ripped vintage paper that smells of grass and your cologne-because maybe in these broken words ill find what Im looking for, maybe you’re hiding somewhere in them, maybe if I keep writing, ill find you.


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Cory Garcia
circa 6 anni

I'm writing tonight with a shaky hand, and raindrops fill the emptiness between the lines of this page, instead of ink.And I allow my heart to bleed out its very last story onto the ripped
vintage paper that smells of grass and your cologne-because maybe in
these broken words ill find what Im looking for, maybe you're hiding
somewhere in them, maybe if I keep writing, ill find you.Yep that is a poet!!!

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Cory Garcia
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