Tell me your love in sweet sonnets
and confess to me everything, impassioned.
I want to be raving,
feeling every passing moment with quivering ferocity.
What which was so unlimited suddenly become impossibly small.
Words too impercise.
Motion holds me too tight.
Only explosions of myself could make me feel alive.
It is too hard to simply be alive.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
Tell me your love in sweet sonnets
and confess to me everything, impassioned.
I want to be raving,
feeling every passing moment with quivering ferocity.
What which was so unlimited suddenly become impossibly small.
Words too impercise.
Motion holds me too tight.
Only explosions of myself could make me feel alive.
It is too hard to simply be alive.