This ain't a good time, but when is it ever?
I know the perfect time; but maybe that's never.

You know those mornings you check the weather before leaving the house, trying to decide what to wear? You know it's going to rain sooner or later, but for some strange reason you leave the umbrella at home, probably in an attempt to fool yourself into thinking the morning sunshine would last forever.

I can understand why you're afraid. I can understand how you came to be. But I just still can't understand you.

I'm just not sure when love and hurt began to mean the same thing.


Okay, it's on you. You can hurt me tomorrow.


H.