Sprinkles of golden dust frame those months.
Your delicate fingers.
Endless, strawberry kissed rainfall.
City lights drowned in a star tinted mist.
Cinnamon secrets.
Freedom soaring beside your wind tussled hair.
Honey flavoured kisses.
Sand powdered clothes and sun bleached love that faded too fast.
But that's just it:
It faded. And now there's nothing left.

dear S.

I hate you. I really, really hate you. Every time I see you, I want to break all the bones you have and light your paper flesh on fire. I want to shatter your dreams like you shattered my happiness. I want to take away anything you have ever loved and will ever love, because you took away the only person who ever had my heart. You cracked three ribs ripping him out of my chest, and it seems you bruised my lungs as well. I am left with broken-glass memories, puncture wounds from snapped bones, and scars beneath my skin. So *******. ******* for being the springtime girl he always deserved. ******* for being the lamb he always wanted to protect. ******* and your big blue doe eyes and your fluffy blond hair. ******* for being the innocent little ***** he always deserved. ******* for being my complete opposite. For being a daisy while I'm just a thorn. For not having devious, hazel, almond-shaped eyes and long, wild brown hair and pale, fragile skin. ******* for offering him something I never could.

******* for pretending to be a friend when all you wanted was to steal the only person who ever made me feel.

And I especially hate you for making me into an angry, bitter harpy. Because I was never a violent person. Never this vicious. But you've shown me a jealous, furious side of myself that I never knew existed.

Someday, I hope some pretty girl who is nothing like you rips him out of your chest and breaks everything you try to hang on with. I hope she flaunts him in front of your face and leaves you with destruction and ghosts of things you didn't know you could miss so much. Then, you'll be just like me.

Another broken, beautiful thing, dead at his feet.

it's been 34 days and i've forgotten the feel of your lips on mine, as well as bits of our very last conversation.

*and i'm really not sure if that's a relief or a tragedy.

PARODY OF "OCTOPUS'S GARDEN" BY RINGO STARR.

I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
They'd let us skid, and smoke a lid
In a marijuana garden in the shade

I'd ask my friends to come and smoke
A bowl of good until they all choke
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade

We would find digs, and ditch the pigs
In our little hideaway inside a van
Resting our head on a truck bed
In a marijuana garden on a ranch.

We would laugh at stupid ****.
We'd forget why and take a hit.
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade

We would smoke and talk about
The police that put us all away
(put your stoner *** away)
Oh I'm high! I'm high as the blue sky
Forgot to go to work today.
(Unemployed today)

We would be so toasted you and me
No one there to call the boys in blue
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you