When I think about the old me.
I have a lump in my throat.
A pull on my heart strings.
Sometimes I miss her.
The good laugh, the numbness.
and all that she couldn’t see.
When I think about the old me.
I have a lump in my throat.
A pull on my heart strings.
Sometimes I miss her.
The good laugh, the numbness.
and all that she couldn’t see.