The oft sober, but occasionally intoxicated thoughts of just another girl. You might not be sure of who I am, but I think I've got an idea.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Hope is a thing with wings that sometimes flutters around inside my rib cage and sometimes lodges itself between two ivory bones and can't come loose... and
Tonight, hope is silent.
And my world may as well drop dead, she won't rise again perhaps til morning light.
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