The garden path still looks as crooked as before, with the same old gate, these worn out doors. The floorboards still creak with the windows and there are so many memories held in one place, buried within these walls, but lost within your heart. As it brings a tear to these weary eyes.
And I wrote you a letter and left it behind closed doors. I left it where you wake between the sunset and sleep in hope that one day you will find it.
Oh how gentle breath, how peaceful you looked tossing and turning. I hope you dreampt of love.
With these hands. These hands have seen years of regret from past times and constant mistakes. And only she knows how damaged I became, but she accepts me for my mistakes. As long as she accepts me.
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