

Why am I...Hello! How are you? It's been a while. Very long. How long? A few months - at least. And then from, When last we spoke? Well, perhaps a little more. There's a strange look in your eye that wasn't there before... Why are you boasting? Why do you feel the need to say, how good you are? I knew this already, anyway. I know you: your goodness. It's imbedded in my soul And treasured in my memories. Which are turning into hell. What's that? Oh no! I'm not saying you're ideal. Just your badness, now I don't really seem to feel, anymore. Seem lesser now. Even...somewhat forgiven. &Why am I...


Counting the minutesHere I am, waiting for my feelings to change. Waiting for the moment when I stop Thinking of you. You are a curse.Counting the minutes
You are a burden I bear. A burden That doesn't know it's there. I'd love to ask you so many things. Excavate your soul and see If there is still a piece of me Lodged between your love And your hate For yourself. These places, I dare not go. Oh no. Perhaps it is better not to know. I fear the possibilities Of you telling me to walk away Or asking me to stay I do not know If I am capable Of either.


Keep WalkingIn an open field, Alone and directionless. Searching for stability, Finding possibilities.Keep Walking
I land softly on something, I never saw was there. All the things I'm seeking, I know will be somewhere. There is sunshine in winter, And this makes me smile -
I can take the cold, If it's warm once in a while.
Everything's a process, Everything will end, The feelings, life, these moments We spend.
I am grateful, I know I have it good. I try to keep it peaceful. We all should. Plants still gr


In ConclusionOur whispers in darkness - Now only voices I hear. The touch of your tenderness,In Conclusion
I forget. I'd like to believe in fair-tale endings, Still, don't want to be naive. Memories that fade. Feelings drift away.
I didn't want to sit in darkness, Gobbled up the light. I can't see, I go with it. And it's alright.
Things move slowly, like this feeling in my stomach. In endings are beginnings. I know. I know. The little things people do together, Those little, little things -
Dust beneath my fingertips, Rust on my heart. Education.
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I've learned that when it comes to art, people often ask for a critique but what they really want is a blowjob.
Looking at you reminds me of looking at the sun, and how the blind are so damned lucky.
thank you for comment
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Visit my site Rude Boy Designs
www.rudeboydesigns.com
Also i seem to talk in larger words when i speak with you, which is weird, but it feels nice. Lols.
<3
x
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