To lovers you are the kiss of death.
To babies you are the stealer of their breath.
To teachers you are the disobediant child.
To hunters you are the untames wild.
To artist you are the desperatly needed inspiration.
To poets you are the unwritten emotion.
To me you are an unwanted mystery.
To me you are eventually history.
To me you are the distraction of everything.
To me you are the wind beneath the wing.
To me you are a husband to a wife.
To me you are life.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
To lovers you are the kiss of death.
To babies you are the stealer of their breath.
To teachers you are the disobediant child.
To hunters you are the untames wild.
To artist you are the desperatly needed inspiration.
To poets you are the unwritten emotion.
To me you are an unwanted mystery.
To me you are eventually history.
To me you are the distraction of everything.
To me you are the wind beneath the wing.
To me you are a husband to a wife.
To me you are life.
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