My little Butterflies.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Closed-sure.


Knowing that you're smiling again and being much calmer brings me partial happiness. At least, you're happy again. Although I'm contemplating things again. This soul is getting weak. Vulnerable to things so simple as talking that tears will flow though I'm controlling so hard to keep my emotions intact. The face of stone but flowing rivers. This can't be it. But it is what it is and now as this soul grows feeble, for now sleep undoes the frail.

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