“It would be almost impossible.”
“Loving the almost.”
Hours pass, and she still counts the minutes that I am not there..
I swear I didn’t mean for it to feel like this—like every inch of me is bruised
you don't know it's right until it's wrong--You don't know it's yours until it's gone --i didn't know that it was home 'til you up and left
...Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map