blairashleyd
You're heart is a fortress. Out-dated and expensive. I'm too in-my-thirties to want to conquer anything anymore. It's your turn to make breakfast for once.
As I lay here between the sheets, I remember the last time we spoke on the phone. You told me about the cafe on the corner of 1st and Yesterday. The croissants were better than the ones you had in France.
As I lick the stamps to adhere to the love letters I'll never send you, I wonder why you ate all the cookies before you left me forever.