because for the first time, it makes sense to try

Something fits with you
Everything falls into place
Makes sense

Feels like I could've been doing this ages,
Feels like I can.

Like I could do this for a while
Like I could be here longer than I'd thought
And then it sort of all gets a bit messy and I'm not sure what to think anymore and inside, inside it's just a tumble of words one after the other after the other
Reallycharis,whyexplainyourselftellmecomeontellmethinkthisoutthewayyoualwaysdowritewritewriteuntilitallmakessense

Except
I keep writing-
In snippets, in paragraphs, in breaks,
In breaths, breathless.
I try to think it out but I'm still left empty-handed.

I like that we've talked about bits of it today.
I do.

But I also know that I'm due to sit down,
By water, with myself, my pencil and paper,
And start a conversation that won't go in a direction I know.