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| [:] i spend my days pretending you are beside me in me with me but in the end it's just make believe illusions; in this seclusion that don't give me what i need [:]a brief incline of his much heightened poll signifies an affirmative, stilleto'd silence one again intact. Seemingly. Though the gleam within his eye is not just the devilish crafts of the sun. He would have it that nothing had changed, that they had not grown up, matured, become what they were. That she had not doubted how he had always held her within his mind, his heart, his soul. Never been tempted to return to Blackthorne. [:] do you believe in this miracle this amazing revelution by name 'tis love? can i see what you mean to me or will i me crowded out in shadow? [:] but within a snatch of time a single, ebon hoof is elevated from the imprinted shore. A low mutter of a quieter, intimate greeting. Of friendship. Of otherwise. Yes, indeed. [:] this is riat [:]Other men said they have seen angels, But I have seen thee And thou art enough. |