Dearest.

I return, weighed down with the memory of a hundred balloons
All I can remember is the searing cold, pouring through my chest
Acidic, burning. 
We skip, our feet hardly kissing the floor
In this warm moment where all else fades but our words; these letters becoming everything,
In this second, you spit in my eye.
What is there to say that hasn't been outlined already?
What is there to recall that hasn't bled out of my soul, wrenched away by a thousand inconstant twists?
When the memories slip silently into their places, the imperfection will separate the skin from your bones. 
With every silence, another scar.
Every ounce of honesty screams to me,
Your fate, never to understand.
Take my hand, stick our recollections together.
If ever you could knit my Heart together, the ruthlessness taking refuge there would fall from between my lips,
Seeping from my treacherous mouth, contaminating this world.
Tear the teardrops from my eyes, this is all that I know
Regarding your Heart, there remains nothing to be said.
Everything has passed now. Everything is done.

The End

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