A White Rose

Even the brightest star can succumb to the darkness.

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2. Turning Grey

Two months have passed since he left.

Two months, one day and three hours.

Well roughly.

It’s weird but I only just realised that I don’t really think about him as much any more  I still think about him but it’s not as constant, it’s no longer the last thing before I go to sleep. Now it’s just the first thing when wake up. The other day I was drawing, swirls and doodles, and I noticed that one of the shapes looked kind of like a tattoo he had on his back. A month ago I would have drawn that shape on purpose, and it wouldn't have taken me as long to notice it.

The dreams are still there, but they are less frequent and I don’t cry any more when I notice he’s not there. Like the memories, the dreams are fading, becoming slightly worn so that they aren't as vibrant, they’re becoming less real and to be honest I'm not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The dreams, the memories, the black stain on my heart – they’re all fading but they’re not gone, perhaps they’re just turning grey.

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