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  • first you have to prepare a cup of coffee. no, i won't teach you how. coffee is a staple for people like you and me- kindred souls in a cruel world.

    then, look for old pictures of us- you holding my hand, smiling in similar shirts, staring at the bright sun with our fab wayfarers.

    you might even be lucky, a memento might be stored somewhere in our old, forgotten pandora's box.

    afterwards, close your eyes. it will come to you- feel the intensity of the could-have-beens, the what-ifs and the scent of an old handkerchief lying beneath the rubble of our old, forgotten, pandora's box.

    let them choke you, like you did to me. let it swell, like the protuberance on my head when you hit me. let all these pain overwhelm you.

    you will be surprised, that as you hold on to your cup of warm, bitter concoction, the essence will flow.

    from your eyes

    to your cheeks

    then to your lips

    down to your jaw

    tracing the contours of your pallid face as it makes its way


    where the bitterness lay warm and the sweetness struggling to win the flavor
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