Lost Love
These thoughts should manifest themselves into scattered predicaments. Instead I’m like an open sore, barefoot in a sandal. Such intensity’s re-figuring…it freezes the second you walk through the door. You perch up beside him, but the comfort’s only coming from yourself. It’s the kind of day these you hunt reflective surfaces to match the often vague reiterations.
The clocks mark off subtly in non-discrete portions. December - too liable for immaculate destruction. The summer would have been nice. Once you start, you keep on going….it happened when she was fourteen. Inherent antagonism works are way between us. I craved. I lost in this battle.
The clocks mark off subtly in non-discrete portions. December - too liable for immaculate destruction. The summer would have been nice. Once you start, you keep on going….it happened when she was fourteen. Inherent antagonism works are way between us. I craved. I lost in this battle.