I spent all this time worrying when it counted as being left behind. When your last breath of care would be a mark, no more plums or laces, no more prayers. The sky would be as bleak as a memory, and I would run and run to hide from it but it would always still be above me. Again, the second part kicks in - I can't hide from myself, either. But that also means I'll never be left behind.
©another
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