#;scribbling

I miss you, and I wish this space wasn't alone.

I remember all that you had to say to what you did to us. It's hard not to. All you said was okay. All you did was nothing.

Stop doing this to me. It hurts to the core.

I think at the least I've found the ground.

It’s happening all over again and I want it to be the last time. But I know. It tells me it’s not.

Hope and home are both small, tricky words.

who are all of you