She had been passed eyes
from a mother of formidable opinions, a constant reminder to never
chew with her mouth open. Sentiments broke through and palpated the
black mass fronting as a heart imposter. It was never chance that
endorsements of personality ever escaped her grasp. A foe could even
sense the aroma of sudden virtues stingingly accurate in their
portrayal of a young woman. Her senses were cleansed by salt-water,
left for the sun to be her falling star in a world all too needy of
heat; the grasping of warmth (a sin) to cause explosions within hail
storms. Had her ego been reluctant to hesitate, the outcome would
have assuredly been disasterous. It was stolen by hands reaching into
themselves for fingers too ingrained in wanting. The pockets continue
to increase in depth, yet weaken in strength. Her considerations fared
well upon the sea of mountains. Could we suppose she had ended too
early, forgotten too soon? Or spied eagerly, and thus being resilient of
humble remarks, grew to the faint whispers drowned by screams in
locked drawers? -to my infatuations and the luck that their
ambitions are not mine LOVE IS PATHOS
Feb 20, 2005
Feb 20, 2005
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