The rain now floods the bridge we stood so desperately between. the sky has lost its color seperating the battered from the dead. almost close enough to kiss the tears from your face as i lie beaten and unable to stand. remembering when we said, «let’s just sleep and pretend that this is never going to end.» ten days to come, three weeks to pass, and now she’s gone again. the most delicate of love shatters somewhere between the lines, somehow between the fights. and sometimes the print drips ink that we’ll just never understand. these gifts are held in warning to them, and we can’t forget, she’s gone.
