was the second time I saw her and do not know why they gave me a terrible desire to mourn.
kneel and see his feet and shed my tears on your fingers.
probably had pretty feet. You know, his eyes, that look that says you have pretty feet. I could not find out because her heel was closed. But I had to have them.
could not speak and was better. Cuts
I called because the conversation seemed to always be in pieces.
I imagined talking to her, drunk, telling stories about my friends, promising that they were a thousand times better than me. Cuts
I looked and did not smile much. Cuts
seemed painted strokes. If she had allowed me to paint, would be the same disaster: the same unsafe touches to a face of beauty permearÃan undecided. Cuts
never knew my name and I ever knew hers, but I forgot. Yesterday I saw pieces
. It had been years. He said he had wanted to mourn in front of her. Now the only thing I had to give were my tears. Cuts smiled. Chunks said that second time we met, I just wanted to share a piece of cake to me.
We ate cake, Pieces and me. This time she wore sandals. Yes they were beautiful.
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