Saturday, December 4, 2010

Some nights I feel like a million little pieces. And then it's the flickering of a candle flame, the slight cold wind whispering beneath the crack of the window, the shadows painting brush strokes in the mirror.

Nude trimmed nails trace a familiar tattoo. I could never understand you, hating music to hold hands to. Sometimes I want just that. Tainted words: sweet. sentimental. romantic.

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