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Hey.
I know you're not here anymore, and that's okay.
Even though it wasn't explicit,
I cared like it was.
Hey.
Remember that time my mom came in my room while we were on face-time?
She told me to make my bed.
I never did. I kept face-timing you instead.
Hey.
I need to stop trying to contact you.
You're gone, out of my life.
I miss you though, and my chest collapses when you aren't around.
Hey.
Do you miss those poems I wrote?
The one comparing your beauty to a daffodil.
Or the one where you showered me in kisses after you read it.
Hey.
I remember the poem you wrote me once.
You compared me to be better than Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and Monet's "Sunflowers".
I was touched.
Hey.
Remember how I said I didn't make my bed?
Well, I made it.
I made it for you.
I love you.
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