Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Love is in the air
It's Valentine's Day
The day Saint Valentine
lost his life

I Loved her!
He drugged her!
He stamped all over her!



He killed her.
R.I.P sweetheart ❤❤

She lied there that day. All I now picture, is blood stains from unwanted needle work, and eyes redly diluted from sufferd pain.

She starved herself that day!
Not from food!
But Hypoxia. ❤❤

I lie in a bed in
the hospital that
we lay down
in together a
couple of years ago.
I held her.
She was tired after
work.
I can't go anywhere that
memories
don't haunt me;
chase me
like a rabid dog.
But,
this is too much.
I can see her,
smell her,
taste her.
And my
heart breaks when
I open
my eyes, and
face the loveless
sun
like a knife.

over time
your touch
became
my enemy

over time
my love
became
despair

He laid there seizing in pain
Because of an addiction
Gone wrong.

You could have said,
How can we help you get better?
You could have said,
We are family and
We are here for you.

Yet you said nothing.
You just laughed at his pain.
You ridiculed him as if
His pain was not worth
Your attention.