The plans are everywhere. How to live the American Dream. Be born on her soil in projects or mansions. Tame your anger like a stallion and ride it hard chasing the dream forever until you rope and tie it. Live it.
These nuthouses are full of sad stories. My heart bleeds for our circumstance. Sad is all. When they asked about you I said she's right as rain, a perfect wife. They said you were dead. They lied and put me in a room full of dark. Bury her in my shadow if you find it.
I was obsessed with you back then. I can't remember your naked body or eyes or voice that was music or your fragrance or thighs and all. You're a lovely piece of memory. I miss the rest of you. I loved you.
I'm your king. I wear your crown of thorns. My throne is broken hearts. My scepter is lovers' lies. I wear a robe of bruises. My kingdom is your heartbeat.
I was searching for TP at Walmart. I turned into the frozen aisle and my heart told me this woman in this flowing revealing dress was the reason I was born.
Sometimes you fall in love in an instant. It happened twice so far.
Life is indifferent to our pain. It weaves too many tales to know when our heart breaks or pet dies. You care about me. I care about you. We're small gods on our tiny altars. We share tears and laughter and grave.