you see me gazing through the bottom
wondering what would cause such a thing
as I stumble out the door of a smoke filled bar
well a heart is such a fragile thing
It can be broken or it can have wings
fall so low as the depths of despair
or soar above eagles in the air
nonchalant I attempt to be but inside I cry
at the sight of our unkempt bed
dreading the thoughts of another empty tomorrow
Ultimate Love
This is impossible reconciliation. Poe and Hitchcock create horror, Serling makes irony, you are their equal in the realm of the forlorn. ~allets~