To my sweet sweet Pasha.
Monday, Mar. 08, 2004 at 12:44 a.m.
*Sweet Dreams, Valentine*
The cold wind sweeps over my body. Radiate glow of the sun. I imagine the warmth.
No glory in the things I do. Satisfaction in the rarest form. Stars above still shining bright.
Rings on the phone somehow adding value to my life. False hope.
Recoil in your arms. Finding it safe to push away. Feeling your body heat against mine. Third degree burns.
Take advantage. Poor useless girl. Beautiful blue eyes. Slicing chills down your spine. Right through you.
Running rapids of tears and flowing blood. See through your own eyes. To the moon and bluish glow. Neon lights and stripper poles. Your future is all you have to look forward to.
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