and in his eyes you see nothing. no sign of love behind the tears. cry for no one. a love that should have lasted years...
so you could actually sent one's mood spiraling down with only two sentences (three, if you count onomatopoeia chuckle as one sentence) written in all non-capital letter, innocent for every eyes except for those which tainted with (hopefully) unfounded jealousy.
so, this painful pang who has been my friend for a while...I say hello to you again. I might cuddle only with this blog while I shun away all social media...
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there was
A time when it was not.
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there was
A time when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
"Paint has an element of blank", by Emily Dickinson
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