Chris' Blog

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My writing

0 likes : 261 views : September 27, 2015

Sitting on a chair, leaning against a wall, looking over from across the room. Those eyes are on me when I act; ears to me when I speak. When I toss a pebble in to the water, the ripple will go through her first, feedback will ping against the back of my smile and I'll think a little more next time. I could break a glass cabinet of hearts or raise dead spirits, and the first thing I'll do is spare a glance towards her ghost. Gone maybe, but when she stopped coming around she stopped adding to my perception of her. Now she's stuck in time in my mind, and that candle alone lights my way. 

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