Dear love of mine, what I wouldn't do to find your fingers intertwined in the holes of my life
And are not hard lines the very things that define form, else I be undisciplined splashes of ambiguity and not my current self
And who says you must wait until time's nearly up to learn how to scream//to learn how to breathe//or to learn how to notice the air around your lungs
This is a street I could fall in love on, where everyone's eyes reflect the stringed lights. Cobbles hold the weight of it all - the hearts and the hopes of what could and might.