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L. V., i found this poem when a stranger on the bus sat next to me
13: "...Eight years later, I still dream about him." "...stare at his pictures on my phone everyday...scared to forget the color of his eyes, his smile and his laugh lines..." "...I don’t really look at his pictures anymore but it’s because I don’t need to anymore. I only have to close my eyes and I can see his face clearly in my mind..." "...always used to laugh a lot until our sides hurt alot..." "...still remember all the stories...about his childhood."