paralellsit could have been perfect two symetrical lines two current ideals two pages of history two mutual desires it could have been perfectparalells
Ides of MarchA solid emotion of the house lights being out bitter strawberries in my mouth a tingling touch of brass anomalies an interperatation of quiet feathers aboundIdes of March
breaking tip top of a teacup with no measurement of time an age old prophecy presented in heirlooms and loss of Grace in the Ides of March
untitledTragic is the word for Love on the lips of lovers faithless wishes and ideas souring of souls of hearts of lives the inner demons that we've been trying to wash away bitterness faceless posessions nameless intentions hopeless endevorsuntitled
I believe in love
Love does not believe in me
break of destinyShe opened the cupboard, arms outstretched "We're out of almost everything!" hopes dreams despair faith rage and tears We're out of the glue that holds us together of roses to set on graves we're out of lies to tell hearts to break and souls to feed we're out of empathy replaced with apathy drained of our full-fillment and filled up with emptiness "Will we ever recover?" she closes the door of the cupboardbreak of destiny
