BigBossPatriot1885

Year One. They meet. Completely coincidental. But always one-hundred percent on purpose. Fate. She smiles. He fidgets.   Attraction. Year Two. Friends. He is the boy down the street and she is the girl next door. Literally. He makes her laugh. She makes him vulnerable. Year Three. Still friends. The best of friends. He tells her secrets and she feels safe with him. She thinks he is charming. He thinks she is beautiful. Year Four. He tells her he loves her. She tells him she loves him too. He is smitten. She is so happy. They are the definition of Teenage Love. Year Five. Growing pains. He makes mistakes. And she cries. And cries. An

How the hell can I make                                                          You See that everything you say Everything you do Hurts me And although I’m not perfect Neither                                                          Are You And I am trying And trying To find some sense of                                                          Worth But you’re making it Pretty damn difficult And I realize there’s                                                          Nothing I can say to get through to you Because nothing has worked yet And all I want is                                                          T

The kiss of life, of love, or of Death? She swoons in your embrace- Grasping your golden hand so delicately Or perhaps your kiss brings death Her grasp is her one last effort To prevent the life from being sucked from her floral form Perhaps you are autumn- Your bronze and golden tones Threaten to kill her bodily blooms Or could you be winter instead? Your black blocks of icy demise Come to life again with the kiss of Spring Her spirit awakens the dead soul underneath The ivy atop your head begins to grow again. Perhaps you aren’t dead or frigid at all Epiphany permits another image You are the sun and the frail creature is lifeless- Se