Rather
I picture you leading the word softly, holding it’s hand softly, even though you never held mine
Sometimes I want to reach down your thought and pull the words out, scraping my nails during the decent
But neither will come to fruition
Rather
I picture you leading the word softly, holding it’s hand softly, even though you never held mine
Sometimes I want to reach down your thought and pull the words out, scraping my nails during the decent
But neither will come to fruition