12-15-15 twenty three days clean
I like to record my voice,
Reading poetry,
Analyzing my lyrics,
Or just talking about the things I've written about.

Today, my eyes slid across a few lines of multiple poems I wrote when I missed you with an ache licking its flamed heartbreak at the back of my lungs.
I talked, in an honest, raw, unedited kind of way.

I begin to remember our phone conversations and how my voice had to carry you 1,578.59 miles to me somehow. You fell in love with my poet's mind and my voice and personality.
I hit play on today's recording and I realize how easy it is to fall in love with my voice when I rant about what I love and what I've written. Why do so many people shut that out?

My mind skips to other places now, drifting everywhere a million miles per second.

**

"Your eyes just light up when you talk about your internet friends.."

They get me. I've met some amazing people on the internet who can share a few secrets and intellectual words with me. Everyone here is ignorant and ughhh.

**

"It breaks my heart that anyone would do that to you!! I can't even imagine why.."

Spilling secrets is hard.

**
"Hey hunter!! fuck off!"
--

"You better back the fuck off."

Her.

In beautiful handwriting, 'I love you. I'll always love you.'

'I wanted to kiss you..'

'You're perfect.'

'I'm bad with words so I'm just going to rip off some lyrics'

I wrote for you.

"Our forever is spilling into my future" - (m.m)

**

Poetry takes me to the ever deepening depths of my thoughts. Memories, they flood my head. I've lived beyond my years, or so it seems. But I haven't been living at all.

Today's recording got a bit sidetracked. Let's just finish with the sunrise kisses your vanilla sweet skin across the sheets from me. Let's end right here.

- (m.m)

This was all over the place im sorry haha