sneaking past, avoiding looks and situations of shame. In the past few months after the pretty moments that were spoken. words were spoken like a poet but didn't fit in the normal dialog. something in those sentence seemed like truth and to be seen now with the cloak of words was some sort of death...
and if in those days before were less than a dream, this fool was always stepping between being on fire for saying words with more feeling... as a fool these were the only feelings that could spit.
after all is said and lost before the next day... looks are only given, like more than words, a simple grace that only in this painful moment can be left
and if in those days before were less than a dream, this fool was always stepping between being on fire for saying words with more feeling... as a fool these were the only feelings that could spit.
after all is said and lost before the next day... looks are only given, like more than words, a simple grace that only in this painful moment can be left
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