So I sway back and forth on this tiny little island of mine. Hoping I won't fall off. Wounds might be involved and I can't afford another one of those. So here I stand on my tiny little island with my hands slicing the air above me. I whisper my own little secrets and listening to the wind shout back. I won't open my eyes I don't want to see what's ahead of me. Standing here on my tiny little island swaying back in forth with my hands above my head and my eyes closed I'm wishing for you.
February 27, 2009