Still I can taste those glass goodbyes that spilled from my mouth and shattered at once just like THAT at our feet and although I know it shouldn't the quiet yet rings in my ears like a slow leak that leaves me emptying so much so that now I go just to stand on the sand and make sure that the sky is still there, and yes I know that my small hopes will do me no good, but I would still rather be dead than without them. Lindsay McLeod
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