It’s getting harder to write these letters to you again, it’s the awful cycle isn’t it? The more healthy I get the harder it is to admit to these weak sides of you, but it’ll only do good to keep repeating it, your real, your real, your real
Maybe it’s cos I’ve not seen to much of you lately, everyone’s getting back in touch over the holidays, I’ve kept preoccupied with even some more gigs booked, Domestic’s comeback! But your right to be sceptical, telling me in with that cute annoyed face of yours; “They only come back cos some things wrong In their lives, it’s not FOR you.”
I can’t deny that but fuck it, take what you can get. I’d like to think these things can operate the other way round, and it’s sweet your looking out for me. But maybe this is just how interaction works. We’re all solitary people and we clash together when we’re in the need to refill that social energy. I mean are we really any different you and I?
Shrugging it off
Lnc0
Domestic Poetry 