Her Smile, I'm Sure, Burnt Rome To

Love Of Love Written By The Broken Hearted, Love Of Life Written By The Dead.

So Often I Wonder Whether It Is My Right To Capitalize, As I Feel, So Often, On The Grief Of Others. But Then I Justify, In My Own Particular Thoughts, By Feeling That I Can Contribute A Little To The Understanding Of What Others Are Going Through; Then There Is Reason For Doing It.

Even The Closest Relationships That I Have I Know Could Potentially Fall Away. That's Not To Speak Pessimistically Or Negatively About Those Relationships. In A Weird Way, It's The Opposite. I Value Them.

Heart May Still Be The Fire In Hearth But I'm Suddenly Too Cold To Continue, And Besides, There's No Hearth Here Anyway And It's The End Of June. Thursday. Almost Noon. And All The Buttons On My Corduroy Coat Are Gone. I Don't Know Why. I'm Sorry Hailey. I Don't Know What To Do.

Sublime Is Something You Choke On After A Shot Of Tequila.