bigwhelturnsmal

In the middle of a sentence I lost my train of thought. The final outcome of the words I spoke was the failing of the dot. I remember the silence that filled the room then the noise that followed as you and I came unglued. I sense a trail of candy leading me back to you. Down the road to the cabin where we sat so amused. In the ruins of the city the buildings remind me of you. In the shadow of the sorrow the streets speak of you. Do not take credit for what was done. Do not take credit for my faults and my reasons. It is true what they say murder is all seasons.