Last night I dreamt that you were an angel and I was a ghost.
sometimes I wish you could understand that tomorrow's sickness doesn't have to do with the cold or the paintings on your fingers
you think her paleness constitutes some sort of forgiveness don't you? That touching her lightly simply being near, does it fix you? repair your mind, that grey wolf heart of yours?
you trip as a constant over footprints I left tiny but never lost never lost