You mean that much to me
And it's hard to show
Gets hectic inside of me
When you go
Can I confess these things to you
Well I don't know
Embedded in my chest
And it hurts to hold
I couldn't spill my heart
My eyes gleam looking in from the dark
I walk out in stormy weather
Hold my words, keep us together
Steady walking but bound to trip
Should release but just tighten my grip
And when the day come
It will have all been fun
We'll talk about it soon
A non-place recently re-painted for fashion cogitation's, personal mindfulness & principally, inspiration.
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Monday, 25 October 2010
Spot the difference...
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.
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