eleven // pbomb

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S u n s h i n e

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It was a cloudy day which was coincidental for a certain young male.

He sat on dry, dead grass in front of a mossy, chipping gravestone. His hands held a guitar, one hand lazily strumming as he talked quietly to his gone lover.

"It's getting harder to remember, y'know. It took me around a week to even remember where your grave is."

A strained chuckled left his mouth.

"The doc said I had a month left. A month until you're practically erased from my memory."

He smiled sadly at the grave, expecting one in return. It was obvious he wouldn't get one; he just wanted something to hold onto. Even so, he knew that he lost everything the day his lover died.

"I found a song. You might like it, but why would I know? This guy can't even remember your name. . .and soon, I won't remember my own name."

His strumming slowed and stopped for a moment as a stray tear threatened to escape. He closed his eyes, the rhythm from his guitar starting once more.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

He hummed as he swayed his body left and right. He knew his lover made him oh-so-happy despite the fact that he couldn't remember; call it intuition.

He continued to hum the same lyrics, unable to continue onto the rest of the song.

And as he sat there, thinking about the love he had for the blurry face of this man, he sang to his long-gone sunshine under a cloudy sky.

Maybe the cloudy day wasn't a coincidence at all.

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