Category: Writers Block
Bear with me a moment no stop, I realise I have right to ask anything of you, when you are drained to a husk from the exquisite pain of giving. To one who lies amid the ruins, and the rubble of what never will be. But I've considered your feelings at least before throwing myself on the "merciful" sword of your resolve. As we scratch in the ice like slaves to our master.. love, wishing for a fire in vain ,to melt our frozen hearts. When did these hearts last beat in a convincing imitation of life, give me minute and I'll remember...it's buried in here among the 1/2 abandoned yesterdays and maybes, slowly decomposing from a lack of light and care..NO I DO NOT DARE!!.
Wow. Great and dark, as usual. *smiles*
Cheers I've every intention of writing a comedy but...smile
I agree with CuddlyGermanGirl. I don't understand the title, though.
The Ghosts are the hearts which seem to have died