6.3.13

Write a song, make a note; for the lump that sits inside your throat

Please promise me that it won't always be like this. When I am the only one who exists, it floods my mind, overflowing with the reminders I can't shake, and out spills a salty river. I can't see past the blur you forced upon me. It's half past three, the world is asleep but the storm rages on.