/ always an angel, never a god.

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Grief, I've learned, is really just love

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Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.

/     Jamie Anderson.

/     Jamie Anderson

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               BUCKLEY BERZATTO HAS always been a mutt. A downed mongrel weaned on poison so much that it considers harm a comfort. A mixture of blown pupils and empty smiles, begging and craving attention that never will come in the way he wishes it would. For the longest time, the youngest Berzatto dangled on his leash, so long that his needing grew teeth. And with those teeth, sharp and bared, rimmed with blood from gritting them to keep the peace, the mutt snaps the leash from his neck. He leaves the pack, starts a new life as a stray dog, senselessly waiting for someone to realize his absence. For someone to notice his presence. Each night Buckley tucks his tail between his legs, hiding the seed of his desire beneath his swollen tongue while he dreams of being wanted, to be something worthy of being held down.

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