Hope For The Hopeless

I was listening to A Fine Frenzy and could not help myself.

The carpet smells of sunshine.
Your hair. Your flowing hair.
It slips through my fingers and onto your face.
Your heavenly face.
I want to be blessed with that mane.
So kissing my forehead is all the more intense.
Mysterious and familiar.
The house is now ours to do what we will.
Just like our bodies and minds.
This ring signifies so much more than a bond and a promise.
I love you.
Please stay with me and bask in the white sun.
You smile more than ever.
I love this most; the scowl was too queer.
Yep, I said that!
Lay here with me.

#6: Reality television is like a play...no one is real anymore.

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