Close to You

I’ve been writing letters to you that you’ll never receive. Stuffed in a drawer, stamped with an address written across the center of the envelope. Each page drenched with ink, filled with concerns and complaints. Fears and insecurities. Sealed with kisses and quotes. Hoping that the message goes somewhere close to you. 

I’m doing just fine. Great actually. Laying somewhere in-between hopes and dreams. Clinging on to faith and onward possibilities. Repressing repulsive memories of failure. Biting less of my tongue, feeling less of anything towards anyone. Rihanna’s got me feeling shit. Adele reminded me I was living it. Remembering that this was only supposed to be temporary. But God doesn’t make mistakes. So mi halffi work, work, work, work, work…


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