but i tell you it is our house and we should stay for the
night, have breakfast in the kitchen in the morning and
pretend we need to hang the clothes to dry when they
finish in the washing.
, well, i came back down stairs and you were gone, you
left and you left running but it was beautiful like
a surgeon or a concert pianist. or someone with too much
confetti in their mouths.
i guess what im trying to say is that i don't know why, but
sometimes i catch on fire and forget to lock doors when i
leave. and by morning i'll be gone, and you'll be gone,
too.



























