Straight lines, I’m fine as long as you answer, every once in a while
Straight to the point, I’m not sure if I’m talking to myself in your inbox.
I feel as if you’re recovering and still passing by, a broken goodbye
Friends never seemed so much easier, you seem to be having fun on your own.
Straight lines, they’re telling me you’re an artist in the making
And I want your artistic hands, in the palm of mine.
Even as friends, I’d hold your pretty hand, not thinking much of it
I don’t want you uncomfortable in the end, I’m patient enough to understand
That there may be some sort of bridge
That you’re still in denial of wanting to repair.
I can’t replace pieces of you and the past
Straight lines, I see it in your art.
You’re an artist in more ways than one
I’m talking to myself about you, I don’t want to speak too much on your exterior
Spiritual speaking, can my spirit wonder and get lost
Finding your interior.
*Instagram Letter ~ Sakari*
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