The dark end of the empty street is where her soul longs to reside cloaking her imperfections hiding in the sombre night. Advertisements
This then is my truest of truths: I miss you in my waking hours when night is gone and morning comes for then there are no magical dreams to which I may once more succumb.
My Beloved Why are these tainted tears familiar Have they been patiently waiting in the cold dark corners
I am left with myths of prowess from an apostle of love
Is it you
At the broken window while tears slide down her face she wonders how she came to be in this dreadful place At the broken window while the world keeps spinning on Her life has fallen around her with the coming of…