Lloyd132

It's hard for me to make you understand exactly what it is I'm trying to say. A mix of emotions, reason, and past experiences, with a dash of extra special examinations of the soul. But I feel that I need to write this to you anyway, with the special mention of the fact that I seriously doubt I'm going to have you read this anyway. I think the best way to explain is a simple sentence; that being somewhere along the lines of I don't love you. Or, maybe that's not quite the case. A better way to say it would probably be this: I can't get close to you. It's been what, eight, ten months? A large chunk of change that, while we haven't necessarily

My fingers touched softly against my lips, fingernails digging slightly into my skin. She eyed me carefully, emerald eyes gleaming in the soft sunlight. She sat across the table from me in a beautiful up-city apartment, the work of our own hands seen in nothing around us. The table was made across the country, the door handles in Greece, and the painting ported in from Venice. It made me all smile. The clouds drifted into the streets, leaving wisps of smoke as they touched the metal porches softly, leaning against the smooth stone of the apartment building. She glanced over to them from time to time, concerned, but wistful. Her long grey sw