but, bianca,

i still can't throw

the anchor of my

boat down into

the waters. i

still love him. i

still need him.

bianca, who

knew that

the memory

of love was just

as tasteful? who

knew that i could

still see him

every day? who

knew that love

could be so

bittersweet?

i am hopeless

and i feel alone,

but, sister, i just

cannot let go of

the glow that

once illuminated

my bedroom, the

shine of my very

own sun.