Embers, they flew through the crystal clear sky. The cold could be cut with a knife. Balls of hay neatly stacked on the side of the field, with a bottle in my hand, I just cried. As the tears blurred my vision, my voice trembled as I mumbled your name and the wind let my screams subside. Turning wheels, tires squeeled as I fell to my knees and the crow came to drink from my tears. Pot roast in my stomach, bourbon on my lips, I got shot straight into my hips. Blood streaming down my legs as I begged and I begged, all that pain could not erase your face. My memories fading, my poise jading, time was up before I ever gave up.

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