disappearing act.
24- 13/14-5
this wasn't supposed to be here.
i went to my grandmothers graves. the great and young and old.
'the one would smoke her lucky strikes, holding the cigarette up with a pin.
the other, my gram, had a belly i couldn't push in. she made the most wonderful cinnamon rolls with a maple frosting. on sundays we had a family dinner, everyone was there, catching up, getting ready for another week to begin. gone are those days.'
and i left you a cigarette, ken. i'll bring what you like next time.
i have a hard time letting go.
and i will suffer for it soon.
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