The exception that proves the rule. A blog of short writings from Australia and England.
Thursday, 8 March 2018
Each new day I feel your fingers slip further away. Our close knit bond is getting looser and shows the early signs of fray, our solid rock is weathered and is turning to a brittle clay. Back in the day you were once so eager, now your efforts to stay have become so meager. Our hearts once raced and beat in our ears like a speaker, now we find our pulse just seems to get weaker and weaker.