My friends come over and we open a bottle of wine, but barely, among the three of us, make it through. I perch on the coffee table to sit close enough to them, both on the small couch by the window, to whisper when need be. There is no one else in the house, at the beginning, but there are some…
Posted on Sunday, 26 February 2012
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janetisserlis said:
you are perfect. how I wish for nameless things for you, too. for the people you need to hear tell you that you’re perfect tell you. I think they have. I need to believe that. I will. there is love.
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