Today there's no one here,
so I find a rock and open my notebook
filled with letters to Lucca,
reading them,
noticing how the letters
decreased in frequency
over the past couple of months.
When i started,
shortly after he died,
I wrote them every day.
I hurt so bad, I wanted to scream,
but I couldn't,
so my words on the page
became a diary of the pain.
Mots clés diary brookylen chasing-brooklyn lisa-schroeder lucca
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