monday morning

bearhug

Dear Robbie,

Happiness is an ice cream cone. And mine keeps falling into the dirt after only a single taste. The fallen flavor dances on my tongue as I watch the dry earth claim my beloved. The taste lingers and changes and now I can taste the dust. I can feel my heart racing as I survey the ruined cone. A cold wind blows and I shiver. And sigh.

love, Robbie

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