For my friend.
I know you know that I know it's there. The words we long to say to each other are in the wrong order, and the way we utilise the alphabet seems to have gotten caught in an endless game of broken telephone with our fingers. So, we hope the other will decipher the code through the mass of meaningless flowers and digital lips. Sadly, neither of us want to acknowledge that the other has received the morse refined to suit just us. Instead we continue with conversations littered with misplaced feelings and missed love confessions. I keep wondering when you'll break down, while you wait for me to welcome you. But your pride won't let you, and my inner thighs won't let me.
