you don't have to be sorry.

gut spill or rench?

I never had the guts to speak to you.
I wanted to say so much.
ask so much.
I would ask you what your favourite tunes are, and what song takes you back to that place.
would of asked you how you felt.
what did you need? what did you do?
the thought of you no longer around seems unreal.
you never faded, you just vanished.
gone.
I wanted to ask where your favourite spot was, and I often wondered if you would ever take me there.
I pictured you would like nature, with a double helping of maturity.
or maybe I misread your demeanour.
even to date, I still don't have to guts to speak to you. and I'll never get the change to now.