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To Jenn Rubi's previous piece
bygones You left me for 3 months with no word aspiring in your career as a crackhead, I descended into my night job as an alcoholic. But looking down the barrel of a shotgun between your knees, you quit. And there was me, my picture on the floor reminding you, and later, really me, my voice forgiving you, because I could never stop loving you, all the alcohol in the world couldn't wash that away.