remember the poem i always said i'd write about that light house well here it goes ten months later and certainly not as romantic as id hoped
ok ok so i'm the lighthouse (of course, you should've predicted that one) oh oh and you're the boat thats never coming home (of course i should've predicted that one) some days its sunny and if i squint reeeeal hard - hand over my brow and thumb on my temple
i can see the shore!
other days the fog is so thick so grey so heavy i cant see the hands reaching out to hold me
but frankly, i'm not sure they're even there anymore