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Diminishing The flowers he sent by way of delivery are dying a little bit more each day. Petals falling and fading fast. The photograph you have of him smiling, leaning against the fence post, arms crossed, is nice. He reminds me of somebody's brother or neighbor or friend. I know when it's him on the phone by how your voice softens so much, but, heightens in tone as though you don't want anyone to hear how he frightens you and enlightens you at the same time. I wish you could see you like I can, from the beginning. Before you met him when you were still being who you are not who he wants you to be, now, everything seems hidden. Kind of like those flowers you're diminishing.
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