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Oct 2015
Corrosive thought matter eating away at what I thought mattered.
My heart on my sleeve, torn and tattered.
An emotional warrior sent to battle that here after.

Anxiety is dripping off my tongue, spilling hope with a heavy heart and faded lungs as though  my love for you had just begun.
Standing in the sun, holding hands with your light.
Fingertips wrapped my knuckles tight, a sleepy pinky promise tucking me in at night.

To see the things I never dreamed and dream of things I never knew.
It's always you.
Amanda Blomquist
Written by
Amanda Blomquist
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