It's been 10 years today.
The fog is still there, though the ceiling is now higher.
My heart still has a hole in it, though scars have smoothed the edges.
I've not moved on or up, but I don't think I've moved down.
You're still a firm part of my psyche and my being, never far from
my thoughts.
What would you be like at 45?
I sure miss you.
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