Since the beginning of time,
I held your hand at night
And watched the shadow of my shape against the wall.
I would kiss myself good night, wrapped tightly in my loneliness,
begging for a sign of change.
I never played, so I was dull,
The writing child is never full,
but also never empty.
I was too far from bland to be mundane enough.
I was never an adequate companion because my name is so ugly with an ampersand. 13/24 9pm