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Like a photo that I can't look at but I can't throw away.
It's in the same drawer as I put your letter.
Why then can't I pick up this pen and write you back?
Like when the sun goes all the way down, right behind the mountains.
What would you do if you knew it was your fault?
Why then can't I pick up this phone and call you back?
I'm going to write down how I feel - this page is blank for a reason.
I guess this is my letter back to you and I'm sorry.
I guess you where right and things are okay.
