I shouldn't love you

Standing alone, wild and somehow out of place, at home amongst the winds

But maybe you and I just fit into one another, like measuring spoons

...It's not meant to be. But somehow I'd rather fit with you, no matter the tears that follow, than be alone on that hilltop on my own, wondering why you would not stay and dance...

"And I am a writer, a writer of fictions

I am the heart that you call home

And I've written pages upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones

My bones

My bones..."