Text: Twelve Tribes. The Rebirth Of Tragedy. Luma.

It's hard enough just to pretend that this quasi cosmetic relationship's immune system is automatic. I've been so tragically fooled into believing that time is healing our wounds. While the remedy is looking at me looking at yu pictures wont get me through this. Pohone calls on ly make things worse, permanent rescue from excuses better left unsaid you hide your heart behind the thought of each sentence pictures wont get me though this. Phone calls only make things worse, you try to make it easier but it wont stop me what did you say when it was already to late what did you say it's not what you think what did you say when you try to speak you suffocate this conversation always ends in a hole an apology is ended before it's begun. you words hung by and umblical cord at any given second this womb could explode. THis is the love you say you want this is the love you still dont know. This is the love you say you want this is the love that leaves your heart broken.