Monday, July 20, 2009
sometimes i wonder about what could be. and then i break down. the stuff you say tends to scare me, and then i want every dream of mine to be lucid. i worry if it tends to be me.
and i don't care what they say about how when you have nothing to lose you're free to do anything, because i'm still terrified.
and i carry a poem in my pocket that i wrote for you. the paper it's written on is tattered from me touching it. plus, it's incredibly cheesy - but it helps me forget how i'm always too polite.