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Tuesday, September 7th, 2004
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6:39a - untitled poem two
pure intended eyes
shifted down, round, and glassy
God knows how much they've cried
and she still remains classy
Chesnut brown hair
strands of it falling from her face
smooth, light pink lips
he has yet to taste
He knows her heart is broken
like glass thrown to the floor
theres just one thing hes unsure
who's heart is breaking more
He tells her she'll be okay
broken hearts will mend
Like he constantly tells himself
she only sees him as a friend
current mood: disliking morning (comment on this)
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