My Spoken Word
six feet underground
And I was living a lie, But I won't fall for it next time.
disclaimer
Penny for my thoughts?

about me
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I'm a poet of words unsaid.

quills
My everyday words.
Harry Santos |
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thanks
skin by afterbirth

output

past words
October 2007
November 2007
January 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Done

And when she breathes, she burns. Ever so slowly without the afterglow. Another memory that she used to know. A part of her that doubts what she came to find out, a bittersweet ending that made her cry her eyes out.



For two weeks counting or more, between love lost and living life to the fullest without--


--some strings
attached on her
e l b o w s--


Dig deeper, they say. Make it through the day.


Compromise and betray--
the feelings of astray.


Alcohol; bitter and understanding. Let's you let go feelings of insanity.



For a while.


But just for a while. And to him, it doesn't matter. To her, it didn't matter. Because what's done is done.

And they can't complicate the matter. It's revenge on the platter. Without aiding the banter-- done.

♥ Addy Bee.