January 2011
Im just a shape that moves like echoes through a...
I’m in the wrong body. I must have stumbled in. All the love I want to give, gets caught between every rib. What does that make me? I have good intentions, but no way of sharing them.
I intentionally wrote it out to be an illegible mess You wanted me to write you letters, but i’d rather lose your address And forget that we’d ever met and what did or did not occur.
You were laying...
