Comments on this Article/Poem:
Click on the commenter's name to see their Author's Page
Sometmes, the people who leave us hurt us, but the ones who come back hurt us the most. It is hard to pine for someone who no longer exists, to mourn the death of somebody who you're not sure is fully gone, because there are no heart monitors to signify when the beat stops, nor visible signs to signify when that part of them has grown and gone. They call it growing up, and maybe it is. Doesn't change that you wish it never would happen. Great job, Delaney.