They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I don’t think that’s true. Not of every picture, anyway. I look at yours and I can scrape together only the few that we shared. I know next to nothing of your heart and what I know of your life came second hand, from my father. Those words weren’t yours, not really. I tried to learn, to hear for myself, but by the time I was ready you were buried deep in the ground. Now all I have is your picture and the thousand words I never got to say.
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"Classic"
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