Saturday, November 8

if i could find out where to start.

i've put myself here without really thinking of the consequences
i tried to figure out what to say to you
but i left before i made a fool of myself and now
you'll never really know that i think the world of you
and every rotation the horses make
and the twinkling lights and the pleasant mistakes
scratchy music that plays a little tune of love
and everyone around me smiles and laughs
but sadly i'll not know how to follow the same
because i kept silent when i should have said all.

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