And if what dreams were to surface? Could they replace me before I sought out that memory? Under this tawny array of poetic pain. I've scratched my nails to retire this fixation with pain. Desiring what shall mend me. Potential love. Craving endearment. Shadows speak before me. Detaching all that these eyes can see. From existence. And if what great impectuosity were to emerge me? Would you stand naked, engulfed in the suns downpore? Fragile to speaking. I'll pass my words through with the purest of caresses. I've molded one last prophecy. And there you are, my precious. Ready to venture with me. Love is a coma that I shall not recover from. Alive in this pastel illusion. Reanimating what I have come to know as reality. Painting you in summer's glow. And I, in the midst of a choking melody. Desiring what shall mend me.Birth sign: Pisces
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