each and every word you spoke to me,
stained the soul that I held so dear.
observations of a small life go unnoticed by so many; the idea that there is something better to hear, something greater to do,
to see as if there is perfect air to breathe, better people to love
oh no; how can I imagine
a better being than yourself. To brighten my heart so utterly, placed upon broken glass
if you may go, and leave me in this wrechard mess
that I call love
for how can it be any different.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
each and every word you spoke to me,
stained the soul that I held so dear.
observations of a small life go unnoticed by so many; the idea that there is something better to hear, something greater to do,
to see as if there is perfect air to breathe, better people to love
oh no; how can I imagine
a better being than yourself. To brighten my heart so utterly, placed upon broken glass
if you may go, and leave me in this wrechard mess
that I call love
for how can it be any different.
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