scribble.
Innocence written on the wall of your room of times when touching wasn't allowed- of times when your friend was the apple of my eye, and he was the ingredient in your pie of frusteration. We lie next to eachother now, under covers of secret love, next to that same wall of innocence past with love that has lasted beyond what we thought would come. and yet, we're just left to move on, to read those times, pass them through our minds, and write something new.