Tuesday, 22 February 2011

[fifteen]

A man once asked me if I'd rather be heartless or have my heart on my sleeve.
I told him I'd be dead either way.

[fourteen]

I miss you at night.

I've let my guard down and my thoughts drift and if I'm not careful they float to you.
I watch my memories roll on a hazy movie reel. When I'm particularly down, my vision blurs just a little and I close my eyes with the feel of your hands on my curves and I wish it were real. Just once more.

But it won't be.
Because we promised.
Because we agreed it would be too painful.
But it's still painful.