letters to my ex

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And maybe we breathe it out through the fog on the cold pane and the shapes that were imprinted onto it / or through emblazoned sunsets and smokes / or by driving around a familiar corner / or by playing the song that was on repeat through the early hours of dawn.
who said that what we speak needs to always be palpable?
what we don't say,
well, it comes out anyway.
If springs breathed anguish,
let the winter winds distinguish.(?)

Nah no worries, i was busy entertaining a pesky relative who had nothing better to do but aspire for being a legal murderer. He had his exam centre assigned, here. So yea, the dumbfuck had to be conferred with a detour.

aye, that's impressively on fleek. From a mechanical pencil to a photograph, you sure have come a long way. xD
(mind telling me which one?)

umm, and our second-semester exams got cancelled.
and i guess, see you.