No more foresaking my peace while unspoken conversation choke me,
No more letting butterflies flutter more than the need to,
No more protecting you, while leaving my safety to chance,
No more replaying great days that erase bad days,

No more magnifying your moments of sweetness,
No more living with you in my dreams,
No more building happiness with my tears,
No more I love you more than I love me,

No more painting red flags with white,

No more,

No.

It's nothing really...

Maybe it's the volume at which the silence speaks when no one is around.

It's the loneliness that becomes creeps in when it's just me and my walls...

I don't know.

Nobody gets out alive.

It's easy to love someone you don't know quite well because the possibilities are endless.

... Once you know them a little more, the possibilities start to shrink...

... Like dreams that fade when reality sets in...

Greetings,
Excuse me miss ,
I was wondering perhaps if you may help me,
See im a wanderer , wandering around beseeking
I have been missing her, so she is assumed missing
Hence the besearch from the depths of my heart try to find her,
To no avail,
Well let me avail to you her description , so as to search your thoughts to your memories as to her whereabouts,

She is a meleninated Asian,
Black like a blackcat and looks Asian ,
Very beautiful its amazing
Smile like a Silverline in the clouds
Humbling like the ninth cloud
Loud and quiet at the sametime
She so intelligent she is wise
The humour is dry though,
Not that she cant make people laugh and has a breathtaking laughter herself
Basketball tall
Hair like Versace medusa

As I visit him, filled with history that cannot be thrown away.
In his museum, he is there, at the centre, a piece of art.
But still only a statue...refusing to move.
Refusing to yield a warm touch.


But who is truly foolish?

When my thoughts drift towards a certain young man.
I begin to admire his solid structure.
Tracing over every edge, stamping his image on the back of my eye lids.

Dreaming, dreaming of a soft, tender embrace.
Feeling, feeling like that will never take place.
For this young man has found solace in solitude.

As I visit him, filled with history that cannot be thrown away.
In his museum, he is there, at the centre, a piece of art.
But still only a statue...refusing to move.
Refusing to yield a warm touch.

Who is truly foolish?

...I can only expect so much from a statue.