Ive been meaning to write,
Ive been meaning to write.  
But then again there's always someone ive been meaning to write. Theres always someone its about. I open my gmail but most days I dont know where to begin. The card I left you in august just before the leaves turn is still word.
Ive been meaning to write you,
to tell you life after you has been like a bull and some times it is calm, other days it is dragging me in the mud.
When I open my laptop to write, it feels like maybe im running back into a burning house.
You know me darling ive never been good at knowing when to let go.
you know me darling im an open book with a padlock.
What would you think of me. Would you still think me great if I told you that sometimes I held my tongue, that sometimes I held sharp objects alittle too close for comfort.
"It was a long time ago im not that person any more"
"Ok its just I know cleo used to... so if you need..."
"No I could never be that person again"
But sometimes life is a bull that drags you in the mud.