the last sunday of november.

you're never right where i want you,

& i think that's what keeps me hanging on.

but you speak so sweet and perfect,

it seems a sin to halt your precious song.

my fingers long for nothing more than to learn the patterns of your skin.

i've been procrastinating my life away,

and it's really starting to make a mess of things.

it just seems so impossible to do something so meaningless,

that i brush it off to the side,

and believe in my head

'i'll get to it later.'

but i never do.

i'm sick of avoiding things.

oh well,

here goes.

i'm sure there will be another update or two tonight,

seeing as how i will be up until the sun rises.

wonderful.