More “from the random files of…” I don’t talk to the person this was written in mind of, anymore. Not really a surprise, either – some things, you just see coming.
It’s 3am, just to bed, my feet wrapped in the sheets
Staring at the pitch black above, my mind won’t quiet
And I can’t sleep
Thinking about you, me, him, her and us
All the tangled webs we weave
I wonder what it is you’d say to me
If you weren’t so afraid to speak