And to think that I used to write everyday,
And now, I just write every other time...
I've been skipping the sidewalks
of my latter poems...
I prepare myself for
the questions you'll ask...
Your sad eyes
fixate on your soul...
A dream to me is reflection
of all things my mind taketh in...
Will we find each other when our worlds grow cold?
lost between the there and now...
It was so beautiful
the bouquet of emotion...
slipping
slipping...
Dark hair
white teeth...
Living alone has never been easy but,
Only now has it really affected my self...
the tragedy, the love, the tragedy!
This will be found in the following story...
When I think of you
I see stars, a river, and a boat...