I don’t know how to understand the experience of losing someone you love.
That which remains rises in time from the dark, spilling light in odd places. Another Sunday always comes.
This is Sunday, wounded, from courts:
I don’t know how to understand the experience of losing someone you love.
That which remains rises in time from the dark, spilling light in odd places. Another Sunday always comes.
This is Sunday, wounded, from courts:
tony starling kidd 
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