Letters - Day 7

Day 7 - Letters to Juliet

Afar we see.

Dearest Juliet,

Your mind's like a chest of dices, yet heart wheelbound to water. Pistachios do not lay upon thou's feet, yet is kicked away by thee. Race for it, sweat like no man can only if thy worthy of sorrows. The game is given up on, yet not, foully ended, perhaps hung. Your call it awaits. Enough said.

R, perhaps, perhaps not.

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