Posts: 33
From:
Registered: Sep 2008

posted December 04, 2008 02:56 AM         

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His fingers dance across the warmth of my belly a cold reminder that i am something he can touch but not someone he can feel. His sent lingers on skin without my consent and still i try to drown out the sound of his voice with the imagined sound of my dead mothers voice. Her flesh is pressed to my flesh and im afraid im not comfortable sleeping next to death or maybe im afraid ill become addicted to angels breath. I wonder if the dead can hear the living what does it matter? the living cant hear the dead!

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I am a thousand shooting stars going to waste in his arms i will always be his wish but never his truth!

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Posts: 300
From:
Registered: Nov 2006

posted December 04, 2008 09:04 AM         

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Posts: 563
From: S.A
Registered: Dec 2007

posted December 05, 2008 05:37 AM         

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What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

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