It is not I whom awaits it.
It is not me, not I. Not this time.
My love, perished, laid in its death bed.
The casket made up of once held hands, grasped and interlocked.
The only death is of my love tonight.
YOU ARE READING
deficiency of what
Mystery / Thrillermove on, move on, move on, move on, move on, move on, move on, move on, Drag your feet and hang your head low Make sure your hands are cold and your feet are bare Feel if your tongue is dry and your eyes are full of the saltiness of your body Fall a...
