Things aren't always black and white.
Actally, almost never.
There's more to you,
Then meets the eye.
More to me, then the gold hair,
Whispering to you,
Through the wind.
I belive,
That sometimes,
I'm too much.
Too
Much
L
o
v
e
I've only got a year
Let me,
And I'll let you.
love cannot be created or destroyed.
like energy
it shape shifts
following those filled with passion
and hope
but appearing to leave
at the slightest touch of pain
She wakes in the early morning
And stares at the wall across from her
A sense of fear overtakes her
Beginning in the pit of her stomach
And spreading to each limb
Coating her in feeling
you are every eyebrow raise
every smile
frown
and concealed smirk
you can't help but show
on your canvas of a face
when observing you
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.