oh.my.god.

i am writing because it's late, and it's cool to write late at night. because then it shows the late hours i am up, thinking about butterflies and buttercups.
and then some...
i still have not had contact since that night of stolen words,
and stolen thoughts
and stolen everything.
we were stolen from ourselves and i cannot understand
how a thing like this could have happend.
the book is closed because i have not written in forever,
i am scared that i might go to far and think to much and see the one thing i am so afraid to see.
if i could just have one more convorsation i could get this over with...
but i just dont know how to deal ,
cuz i just dont know what i'm dealing with.
lets just say i am out of my mind and my fingers have wondered to these god forsaken keys
and call it a night.



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