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She left before the sun came up.
I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
Goodnight;
I love you.
The last words spoken between us
The suitcase had been packed that night.
Button-up shirts,
Silky and soft.
A warm embrace;
The smell of roses.
I’ll be back before Sunday, she had said.
It was a Friday morning.
A small road trip,
A six-hour drive,
A harmless once-in-a-life opportunity.
In the cold, the rain, the fog, the darkness.
She left. She left.
Goodbye. Goodbye.
Dark thoughts invade my mind,
Black clouds drifting into my head
Eating up the happiness.
What could happen? What might happen?
Tears fall down my cheeks,
Salty drops of sea.
They drip down my nose,
Fall onto my lips.
Please, please.
Just come back. Please.
Come back safe.

The Chances We Take Nastassja Carusetta
Nastassja Carusetta, 13
South Pasadena, California

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