Querida Emma,
Well there’s one more year
Till I’m out of here.
Oh, Jesus.
Well I’ll miss my bed
And a place to rest my head
On your shoulder.
I’ll miss your smile, your haircuts.
I’ll miss your style even though it’s nuts.
But everyday that I’m away
I’ll miss you more than the day before.
Stay close and answer the phone.
Don’t change anything until I get home.
Well there’s only one clock
In this room and it’s broken
Julia...Please, stop writing about me (it's creepy),
Brooke
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