It’s 4 am, cold, windy and dark, with but this beer and cigarette keeping me company.
I should sleep but I want to write, I want to show you, I want to prove to you I’m not all sluttery, I’m not all disgrace and I won’t drown myself in my flailing failure of my morals. I will be better for you, my missing person, I will find you one day. I know I will, I am out every night staring at the dark sky waiting for a shooting star, using each and every one wishing for you.
You who’ll feel, smell and taste like home. Wherever you may be I hope you know, it shall be.
Yours the sweetly