fresh cut grass by Angela Thomas and you know, and I know, that everytime that I call you, I've been drunk, intoxicated under something that must have tasted just like honeysuckle. Tonight was different though, the air smelled like fresh cut grass and it looked like a dream, a light cloud with light scattered about, thrown into all the places that would normally be dark, especially those places. So, within one of the darkest places I can think of, something stirred. I dialed. It rang twice. An automated voice asked me to leave a message. I thought I already had sent you all I could. One full week sober, that's all I wanted to tell you, that's all I've got. 02/16/2005 Posted on 02/16/2005 Copyright © 2023 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2023 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)