------x------
She smiles when I speak.
I speak because she smiles.
Does it matter which came first?
She pours cool spring water
into my mind. And yet, still I
look at her, and feel thirst.
My heart beats in rhythm
to the sound of her speech.
Even her breath to me is versed.
Here I sit, with my words, alone
trying to write something good enough
to free her from mortality's curse.
This isn't love. Not even close.
This is me punching Love in the chest.
Damn em all. Do your worst.
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hahaha, i'm glad you're finally in some trouble...the many hapless women, fictitious or otherwise are murmuring,what? only you know :)
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