Broken Sand Dollar
“Nearly four in the morning”, he thinks to himself. Laying next to his peacefully sleeping partner. “No worries on her mind” he jealously says. As he wonders through the endless thoughts in his head. He smells memories of an ocean. The slight crashing of the waves. And for a brief moment, he’s walking effortlessly on the sand.
But those days were always numbered. His mind clouded by the words of the doctors. But he’s fought back before and he can do it again. “Everything changes”, he thinks to himself. “I’m getting too old for this shit”, he mumbles under his breath. Still, he searches deep for some inspiration. No gods to cry out too. No phone a friend to call.
Distant and alone, his searches his own soul. Hearing ghost of the past. Friends, teachers, the family that created his DNA; all calling, all comforting his troubled soul. “This to shall pass”, the ghost say. He looks down and sees a broken sanddollar. As his mind clouds over with the wistful mist of rest.
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