We were the last romantics - chose for theme, traditional sanctity and loveliness.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Sea glass
How fragile I find your heart, with my hand laid upon your breast I cried for a hundred tomorrows. With the ache of emptiness always near me I will surrender to these waves that wash you against me, and I will become the sea glass that survives the storm of your water's edge.
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