The moon is pretty in the water now
and you are still not here.
It's getting late
and I keep falling asleep,
but I don't want to wake up tommorrow
without you.
Your next letter will tear me apart,
though I wont read it for a week.
Imagining all the terrible things it might say,
during that time.
The candles are fading
and I'm running out of them.
Please let tommorrow be better.
Please let tommorrow be better.
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