Because you will never read this I can admit there were never reasons.
And if I had an excuse, that was it. When I hid, that was why.
Certainty has a way of fooling you into believing that forever is no further than the eye can see; is adaptable if not unchanging. And fair.
You asked for a reason. Something worth living for;
something you could die for.
Not having one is the best one of all. I could’ve told you then.
But daybreak dresses us best. And searchers scour the dark like vultures seek prey.
That’s all. That’s why.
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