These letters get longer and longer,
Don't they?
I'm starting to think we've really left.
This story, this life;
Are we leaving it, are we giving up?
My broken arm will heal,
But my heart won't.
I can physically move
(well, at least most of my body can)
But mentally, I am unable to.
So for me,
Move past,
Move out of our apartment.
You are so much more
(fiercely, I will believe)
Than me,
And what we were.
And even what we are now.
You are so much more
To me.
(i'm sorry)
