Thank you for the support it really means a lot to me
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She Took My HandShe took my hand. It was cold outside. The night was blowing her hair, the hair she'd chopped off just a few long months ago. Were they long? Or am I just pretending they were? I think I'm pretending. Filling the potential space with shapes that we learned when we were young. With hearts and squares and circles. With fake love, stereotypes, and never-ending pain. You know them well. I do to. But anyways, it was gone. Just the outline of beautiful brown hair. Flaring. Flaming. Like her eyes. They stared into my soul, and then, after realizing this mistake she was about to make, turned away. As though not looking would help.:thumb133204909: :thumb126512113:
She took my hand.
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