Oct
10
the enkindled heart.
Tainted is thy heart of the sick, for they are forever tainted from lovers great spell.
forever i be sick, due to thy bitter heart, forcasting a cover of sweetness.
be like the innocence of my youth, nostaglia of a silk woven cover over my deepened emptiness,
and i will forever be a memory of mind of question kindled by the dimly lit flame of weakened proportions
and measures, such bitter circumstances. and who are we to blame, said the girl without her name as she sewed a heart to the seams of her dress.
And who am I to love? the death around her eyes, pleeded a pray to her cross.
she turned around to the man awaiting certainties reply, as he said, i put our love to rest.
