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Oct 2018
if you cannot tell yet;
I have poured you  out scripts, testimonials, fantasies
- libaries
I question myself at every letter.

For what reason I write,
              For one who can’t read.
Who was I to have you inked into my skin,
who was I to ever think it was all right for me - when I was blind.

Who was I to write
when I can no longer spell.
7 October, 3:01am
regretting it all in the am.again i always do
Written by
   caroline kealler
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