I don't mind the chill, honestly I don't, I just need to hear you make sounds sweetly as I flail around freely with deliberate intent, planned as one isn't to be had. You're like a banjo string and he's your bow and sometimes other strings get played but you, I wish so greatly to inform you, produce the sweetest melody and I wish so bad I could tell you that, to tune you and hear you bend to understand but I can’t.
The skin, the sound in this place where your voice resonates provides for those who need it more than I, although that’s not true because I can convince myself of anything. Don’t let me grip your neck as we glide through this, dissipating as i watch you travel.
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