Have you ever thought about your story? Mine is little on elegant and eloquent it is more rusty roped and garlic rolling hills. When I grow up, I will not spread nothing on my sandwich sides. I shall fall hopelessly in love, to the point of not knowing normal air.
Black stars will look directly into my eyes and promise to deliver me into the land of letters and it is there I shall trace eve. Voices full of tears shall waltz while a cello tip toes into musk scented ash cloth.
Under the cross of waiting for you, I captured a freezing of time. Being born was never meant to be saturated with such thoughts, worry, longing and this. I think too much and at times it hurts, I feel my heart grow silent and my flesh fall like death to the ground.
There is a tower tree in my garden and even when the wind passes me by my lonely shivers. Do you ever feel that lonely terror? The sort of terror that reminds you that you are human and the dark imaginings you have are in and of you.
But don’t punish. Flowers grow.