does not matter who drew up the plan, who pulled the trigger, who drove the getaway car, who wrote the coverup, who got away with the murder--what matters is that you pulled me from the wreckage, and now i get to be home, no more darkness, no more drowning. i know this post doesn't belong here, but until i create a new space, i don't know where to go, so i keep jumping to old homes until i know how to build a house with my own hands. i love you, forgive me for my madness and all that it lost us. i would plead on hands and knees, but i know you don't like it when i get scars, so i'll stay upright, safe, sound. goodnight (it's 8:08 AM).




















