Monday, February 1, 2010


am cold inside where once lay joy
am tired now as none before
have spoken words but none of thy
that hover like a mist of misery.

am worried of the choices chose
repeating inside like old echoes
am hurt in turn to our vowes
forgetting the whats, the whens, the hows.

But none of it matters still.
Because in the end, I'm in love with him...

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