I thought about writing this for you, but then I thought about what you put me through.
I was planning on talking about our lives in short sweet syllables no one could resist.
I considered honoring all the moments we had in the images, then I noticed the gaps that stood between them.
The times you shook my heart to the ground, you didn't even consider the consequence.
My heart made it's roots in the earth's hollow floor, now I can hardly lift it high enough to function.
Every time you come close, roots implant themselves back into the dirty grime of our past.
I always end with these late night cringes, my consequence of resurfacing the forgotten.
