typeracer

Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain. I leave my heart open but it stays right here empty for days. She told me in the morning she don't feel the same about us in her bones. It seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone. And I'll be gone, gone tonight. The ground beneath my feet is open wide. The way that I've been holding on too tight. With nothing in between.