bigbravedav
There’s a sleeve upon my arm. A sleeve that she use to cry on. It holds the grandest of memories, but memories that can tear me apart at the same time. If I look closely I could see the tear stained spot from when I told her I couldn’t carry on anymore. That night, with that sleeve, still hurts me.
writing since 2011 · 2 entries · 1 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means David showed up.
1longest streak
1days written
14entries / week
the words David reaches for
sleevememoriestearuponarmcryholdsgrandestapartcloselystainedspotcarryanymorenighthurts