When you talk to me, I often feel like I am a veteran birdwatcher observing a rare species. Your chest puffs out so far I fear your lungs may never fill entirely with a complete breath. You speak so much that it’s possible the air you inhaled when you first uttered a single word never completely exhausted so you’ve continued to run on the same fumes since Day One.
Do I want to be with you or do I want to be like you?
Prattle Peach 