| |
With you, my sweet, I hope for nothing My world will turn to mush if I begin admitting With you, my dear, I yearn with vain effort My heart will only bleed from rejection's discomfort.
With you, my dove, I hope for insignificance I am not light to your eyes Nor worthy to be your prize My spirit will only splinter from your adamance.
Melissa Hurst
| Submitted Date |
: |
Saturday, August 08, 2009 |
|
|