Unreadable
So perceptive of people am I, that i now find myself unable to understand her at all… How things change. Why?
So perceptive of people am I, that i now find myself unable to understand her at all… How things change. Why?
Another one of those nights. It’s no wonder most suicides happen at night.
Well it feels this way sometimes!
A moment Dreamt. In a place, Not home. Of a time, Not now. In a life, Not mine. Yet.
Not based on event, more thought – If I should turn on my own word, against my own heart, and my own love….
A summary of what once was, of where I was for the last year, and into now.
A return to rambling begins
He will get his story one day, but until then, Marcus can have his poem.
For the record