Tuesday, May 11, 2010


It became a story to tell, another page in a book-a memory erased. The best writing comes with dreams, dreams of love, to come and go. The ark days that flow so close.
If I shut my eyes I'll sleep forever, dreaming of a space to exist where love exist beyond two souls. Had I escaped, there'd be no letting go.
Time just froze. The magic is damage. I'm left with just a few, butterflies, I caught them on sight. I shut my eyes and I exist in a space where there is no you.

Black hearts stained by blood existing on the cut. Red is a dry desire that fire puts to shame. We become the game with a simple twist of fate. By and by I stand outside myself hoping to escape, yet I'm on repeat and it's too late.

Some ramblings going on in my brain that only make since to me. I thought it sounded poetic.

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