Perhaps the multitude of crows atop the trees were mourning all that could have been, that night we stayed out listening to them caw. I followed you back inside, leaving behind my cigarette, a thousand words unspoken, and feelings I’ll never wish to revisit.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
Perhaps the multitude of crows atop the trees were mourning all that could have been, that night we stayed out listening to them caw. I followed you back inside, leaving behind my cigarette, a thousand words unspoken, and feelings I’ll never wish to revisit.
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