SoClose15

Rules were made to be broken.

Daughter, I do not see. Why do you stay with that toxic sneak? The bruises that stain, the depression that seeps; Your porcelain skin now grey and weak. This affair you keep, I know; Is filled with lies and cheats, Manipulation and hits. Fights from small disagreements. He’s controlling you. You’re a puppet dangling on strings. He jerks you around. And you are left wearing slings. A relationship young thing; Is of trust and love, Communication and kindness, Gifts of rosebuds. It is agreements and hugs; Sharing time together, Comfort and support, Feeling like treasure. The facts I have read, To try to understand this. 80% stay

My, what a sinner you are.

all the butterflies that flutter in my stomach want to come meet you.

the rain is nothing more than the tears of the angels; who have nothing more left than to weep for earths’ tragedies. they are weeping now for they are mourning the loss of another little girl; whose time frolicking in the gardens to play with the fairies is over. too fast. too soon. they are weeping for the lonely old man; his mind so foggy from age he doesn’t remember his now late wife. the guardian angels have her now. she too will be a weeping angel soon. they are weeping for the death of another high-rised celebrity; an over dose taking them to a star next to the moon. too many. not much space left. the angels they weep f

When people speak of love, they talk of these butterflies they get in their stomach. The ones that flutter with a mad intensity; their delicate wings so strong against the lining of your stomach, that crash around your rib cage and it hurts so good because it means that they are near. I don't feel them. I just feel different. I feel the want to have you near, and to lean into your touch. I feel it in my bones, and my head, and maybe somewhere along the line... ...it has crossed into my heart. I feel an ache that no pill can cure, no medicine or ancient herbal remedy. I just want to be near you. But I just hope, with the way that you act...

Love is beautiful. It will kill you in the end; Slowly I will die.

She sings her song to the trees, the birds, the flowers and the bees. She smiles her heart to the lost, the lonely, the hidden and the weary. She speaks her sorrow, to no one. Her home of the forest floor, the tall trees, the never-reaching sky and the non-existent door. Her forest, her home, her heart and her soul. Her lungs and her eyes, her brains and her bones. All of her lies, her tears, her pain and her despise is hidden here. No one to be. Nothing to see. She ran into the forest so very long ago. She ran too fast, too long, too confused, too thought in the past. Off the path, a different path, the same path, a new path. The door wen

Souls are seen through eyes; I think that mine are broken. Will you help fix them?