you

make me wish i could write in the way i hardly understand what my words mean at all like those poets who manage to place every word, every detail of it in the most perfect cadence speaking in a language of only those few who feel or have been through the same thing could understand with their deeper and wittier sense at catching things in the right way feelings successfully delivered across like it's the first thing you'll read in the envelope and though i still lack the capability of doing so i'd still stretch any words i have in me to attempt creating something— anything less than what the heart feels you make me try to utter things that i’d rather leave unsaid if it’s about anyone but

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nocturnale

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