Oh, The Places You'll Go

Somewhere in the Sunlight


Soft: The earth that weighs so heavy in your hand, the delicate sound it makes as it patters onto the simple pine coffin.

Soft: Her voice as she tells you she can't stay, her eyes that won't let you see the truth, the memory of her hair flowing through your fingers.

Soft: The pillow under your head, cool against your cheek, the sheet beneath you, gripped tightly in your fists.

Soft: His breath on your body, warm zephyr ghosting over your skin. His touch a whisper, anticipating what's to come.

Soft: His voice, low and gently insistent, calling you home.


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