IRC-Galleria

Wish I could remember why it mattered to me. It doesnÂ’t matter to me. It doesnÂ’t matter to me anymore.
Now that youÂ’re feeling fine, IÂ’ll admit that - though I know itÂ’s coming down, and see it shattering me - it doesnÂ’t matter to me, and IÂ’m not sadder for seeing it come.
IÂ’m not going to run. I will just come when I am called.
You want to cut me off because I took too much, but donÂ’t leave me alone. Take off your scarves, your winter coat. The nightÂ’s too cold.
And I canÂ’t claim to know what makes love die or grow, but I can still take control and so refuse to just go home, back down the hall.