“on my best days I am blessed visions of her thankful for the time we spent together.
It was my worst days that I was cursed with visions of her out of anger.
True to her style she left me standing there to hold myself, in despair over what could have been.
I dreaded the days when I forget about her completely, but perhaps that is the day I will learn to trust again”
I guess love is a fickle thing, a fire on a candle stick with a single wick it needs to be protected and grown until it is a burning fire filled with desire having been recently robbed of that chance by some pencil decked mother Fulkerson who do sent know me well that may be the thing that passes me off the most.
I guess it’s a do or stay or do I go now matter!
