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
Every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time..
Our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds…
You were a truth I would rather lose, than to have never lain beside at all.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map