letter to self

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Dear You,   Do you remember the way we used to be? I don't, not anymore. Now, I find myself staring at old photos, asking who you were. I remember the days before the separate houses,
Dear Ana, There is something out there for you, you can't hear it or see it, but it's there Like a flower growing, or a caterpillar unknowing You will grow, you will bloom, transform, and fly
Dear Alisha,   There's so much that I could tell you, so much that I could say. So much that I could wish for, so much that I could think of every day.  
to the one whom gravity holds tightest to,   you're an aging collection of thin skin and heavy bones known by a name  passed through the lips of few   with ribs housing
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