mood goes up, down, up, down. and yeah it’s because of that, and no it’s not because of that and, well… you know. it’s just i miss the way your left hand scribbles and scratches. ink dances and it’s hard to think of those words, those promises scrawled up and down a familiar canvas.
foreign lands. foreign tongues. far, far away and i just want to know what it feels like. i’ve forgotten how it feels. to hold a pen to paper, and how to lose time to the clocks. it seems like so long ago.
forever is just a cry away.
