Kismet

Revolver

She wants love as deep as the love she is willing to give, and she searches for it everyday as if it's her purpose to live. 

Been through some tough times, but she keeps on kicking, lost count of her wounds and how many times she licked them. 

She doesn't mention the ones that almost made it through, the ones that gave her drawn out pain because it was too late when she realized even to them she had no claim too. 

They were leeches and fed on her will to love them far pass suffocation, to love them far pass anything because she moved so fast she couldn't relate to them. 

She mended the wounds that were consistently cut open, and left no name on the many faces because, to her they had no notion.

 She lost her optimism in them and kept on moving, because she had faith that her love was a story and they weren't the conclusion.

She dreamt of the day where she could finally cease chasing, where she could receive the love of her life and her past respirations.

Feeling nothing inside besides the fact that she earned it, and the celebration inside was something she could not resist, she felt it inside as the preacher said your bride you can now kiss!