last night, I dug out an old box
dusty and stuffed full,
of all my writings
as a little girl.
I laughed at the simple phrasing,
and the over dramatic emotions,
shook my head at the countless plays
I made my brothers be in.
So many words from a girl
somedays I hardly remember
the part i loved the most though,
was finding Bryan's signature
on an old play -
sloppy, tilted cursive
Bryan Meyer
and I cried,
to find a hidden piece of him
among the forgotten pieces of myself.
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