Saturday, February 12, 2011




I have grown,
To hate that word.
Too many promises,
I only thought,
I heard.

Love is beautiful and bitter,
Endlessly harsh and cold.
It is at the heart,
Of the saddest stories told.

So I stray from feeling,
Even saying it too much.
I've become too cold,
Caught in its icy clutch.

05 17 08

But you should not fear.
For if you do,
You will miss all of the people,
That are here for you.

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