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By darwin Date: 2007 Apr 16 Comment on this Work [[2007.04.16.17.55.2399]] |
| It's too close to my heart to say the things i want. to pen the words that stay behind my eyes, while the world darkens into dream. i haven't laughed in weeks, and my soul has been torn apart; recycled into papier mache. a mask to wear, when i can't fall down. how hard it is to mend a broken heart, with a job and resonsibilities. the bills that know no sympathy. room to breath or think are caught in desperate moments driving to work, the grocery store. the simple act of buying milk for the cereal in the morning. the meal to eat alone with the cats. i need books to transport me into worlds where kisses are promises, and eternity begins in the matter of 10 pages. eternal devoted bliss, synopses firing till the end of time. instead it's quiet desperation, struggling through the moments when the radio talk reminds you of his phrases. scents that tell the story of his hurried kisses before dawn. when it all begin with a ring and i do. |