in april, the skies shattered; life and death french kissed
should we leave?
my lovers meld together
my winter sun / my ailing skin / my dying roses /
somewhere in between; eerie, forlorn, and often surreal -
i stole my father's cigarettes so you could scold me for smoking because you are my prettiest love affair.
stripped of meaning, I am just conscious enough
past midnight; i write thank you notes.
endlessly affectionate
these words are red in color.
on the coldest night, stay up and write poems on your floor ~
'till you pick me off the floor and love me again.
sad sappy writings for the the month of november.