If I had no paper, no pencil or pen, I would still write about you with a stick in the dirt.
If the only way I had to write about you was then gone, I would take my own blood and write it on the wall.
You live inside my soul and I have to let you out some way, this way won’t kill me at least not right away.
If I had no paper, no pencil or pen, I would write about you with one chewed up fingernail scratched into my chest.
If the only way I had to write about you was then undone, I’d write the words with my tears in mud at my feet.
You live inside my soul and I have to let you out some way, this way won’t kill me at least not right away.
~Jazzi~
