your affection got lost in poor pronunciation of pretty words and the permanent desire of always being somewhere new. there’s an envelope filled with seven pages of my awful handwriting that explains nothing, but i don’t even know where to send it. so, in short: i miss the way your hand fit in mine. waking up to the forest in front of us. a flower vending machine in the airport i first kissed you in. being the one you called when you couldn’t sleep. but most of all, i miss the days i always remember when i wished i could forget. that emerald kingdom you promised me, a life that looked so much different than this. now, i just feel like an asshole that hasn’t gave up on that just yet.
the lending side 