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A Love Letter
FOR PALOMA
I like to imagine...
a world where time can be manipulated where the me now can walk into the hospital room of the me then, after Paloma was born where maybe I can just slip in past the nurses, maybe catch myself alone...where I can sit on the corner of my own bed, wrap my arms around my heartbroken self, the girl who was unconsolable, unable to breathe, and desperate for a do over.
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