Of YouIt's been seven years now. I just finished playing a gig in ShibuyaAX. They called us back for three encores, you know. Three. I know we're hardly world famous yet, but I'd like to think that Mum and Dad would be proud. There was a photographer darting around the front row. If we make an article, I'll cut it out and send it home, maybe with a letter if I can think of anything to say.Of You by rosumari
Shifting the cases afterwards, I saw couples watching us curiously, the occasional request for a signature breaking the rough circle of them around us and the van. Tiny, petite girls, like you were, wrapped up against the cold in the arms of their boyfriends, who were invariably dressed far more suitably for the weather. One guy had his scarf wrapped round both him and his sweetheart's necks. She tangled her fingers around his. I smiled.
I sometimes wish I were someone like them. You know, a girl. Then I could let someone care for me. Maybe I could curl up in someone's arms and feel safe. Sometimes I think