Tomorrows

"I guess that your kind of truth is just the ghost of your lies."


I wish I could throw you up. I wish that I could, but instead, I just heave. I heave, and I want to die. And like the morning after a night on the town, I swear I never want to love again.

But I will someday. And that, my love, is the end.


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

There was a time you needed me.

That was the greatest time of my life.