I Was Selfish, I Was Hurtful, I Tortured The Ones I Loved

time passes.
even when it seems impossible.
even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise.
it passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.
even for me.

I was laughing, actually laughing, and there wasn’t even anyone watching.
I felt so weightless that I laughed again, just make the feeling last longer.




Skriv gärna en rad eller två ;)



Vad heter du?
Kom ihåg mig!

E-postadress: (publiceras ej)

URL/Bloggadress:

Kommentar: