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Just dyin' to meet you.

I won't miss you.  Much.

I'm sure in time I'll forget all about you.  The way you taste.  The way you smell.  In time you'll be but a distant memory.  I hope.  Right now I can't stop thinking about you.  Right now I want you more than anything.  It will pass.  It will pass.  I hope.

Someday I'll tell my kids about you.  About picking you up.   I was drunk.  I was young.  I'll tell them we were together from that day forward.  And for the most part, it was a beautiful 20 year relationship.  Better than most, I'd wager.  I don't want it to end.  This wasn't my idea.

I can smell you on my pillow.  Every little thing reminds me of you.  I need a fucking hobby.  Something to occupy my mind.  Whittling maybe.  Knitting.  Painting.  Sculpting.   Something.  Anything.

Why can't smoking be healthy?

Posted on Wednesday, July 20, 2005 at 06:57AM by Registered CommenterJon Jackson in , | Comments5 Comments

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Reader Comments (5)

You've changed.
July 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterAunt B.
Not your idea?
Hope the doctors give you a fighting chance!
Good luck, God's speed,
May the patch be with you!
July 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterItchin' for a Bitchin'
Changed....my ass.
July 20, 2005 | Registered CommenterJon Jackson
I didn't realize you could swap out body parts...
July 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterAunt B.
Nobody likes a quitter.
July 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterSarcastro

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