one too many.

She smiles, and I see the bags under her eyes. She has beautiful auburn hair. It shines, almost like a bright flame in the afternoon sun. It entrances me as it flows with the wind. I know she’s been crying. I can see it in the white of her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’m okay.”

I wonder how many times she’d said that to the people in her life who had screwed her over one way or another.

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I enjoy penning my thoughts in words, and the strangest, most random things inspire me.

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