It's raining, the grief and the tears on his face unbearable to look at, only making me despise him more Hearing him grieving over the sound of her living The cruel reality Seeing him reject her death In denial But I know she was the only warmth that made him whole watching your tears running down her gravestone. I'm afraid you lost yourself
Tonight I decided that I love the way that he looks at me. With eyes softer than infinite rolling clouds, they make the finite nature of my haphazard existence feel appreciably less confining.
This is old, but ******* he's more beautiful than ever.