Tuesday, 26 January 2010

I know it tires you, that my fingers are so relentless. Constantly pulling at your strings, making you scream. My cold hands know of no heat greater than your soft tones, or a deeper hue than the brown of your hair.

I wish I knew how deep your well was, so I could know when to stop drawing.


CrazyLady said...

Oh my. That was quite beautiful.

somethingrichandstrange said...

hah. arrogant much?

Dreaminglass said...

More desperate and stubborn.