New friend of mine, you ask me to write of you but don't give me any specific details. Why? What am I to write about concerning you? Should I write about the way you and I talk on and on for ages, and how you are the only person who really talks to me seriously these days? Should I declaim a spiel about how beautiful you are, about your wonderful hair, your eyes and tattoos? Or should I write about all the funny ways you try to compliment me? We both know those compliments are closer to insults than to anything else. You wicked woman, you.
You ask me to write about you
But I don't know where to start.
There is so much about you that I enjoy, yet so much that I have to find out.
You ask me to write about you
But I don't know where to start.
There is so much about you that I enjoy, yet so much that I have to find out.
