of broken dreams and promisesI speak to you not of loneliness or broken hearts and silent pleas... but of broken dreams and promises that severed angels wings. And yes, it is a story of love though just a sentence short. About a boy who loved a girl... that fucked another boy for sport!of broken dreams and promises
But no mistakes because I'm not aching... the angel wasn't me... but the foolish girl who sold her soul for her curiosity... And now she's feeling empty like a dead doll who can't sleep. And I refuse to lick her wounds for fear she'll poison me...
And sure... MY WINGS don't
Bad PoetryDear --,Bad Poetry
I began your letter at the stop sign on Third Street and lost it in a traffic jam on Hemming Way; you would've rolled your eyes at the name, so I tried to imagine you sitting beside me. That's what did it, of course--I had a perfectly good sentence and it went right out the window
with sentiment.
See there--I was trying to redeem myself by writing a poem, but apologetic prose doesn't like to share. I had grand illusions--something about a word o
Sorry for the slow response.
--
"Surely if we knew what bitterness fate held in store, we would shrink back in fear and let the cup of life pass us by untasted."
'Kushiel's Dart' by Jacqueline Carey
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