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You and me. Me and you. A black, black night. A darkened room. Staring at each other. Your midnight eyes. Your heart is ice. Full of treacherous lies. Reflected in your face. Is the deepest hate.
'Twas a gloomy night, with the moon full bright, That the stranger, came to the inn door. His horse was a'frenzied, snorting and whining, and pounding on the cobbled floor.
Just me. That's what you say. Just you. Just pretty lovely you. Sleep tight, And dream of times lost. Times of happiness. Dream of the love, the love that still lives. True love takes more to kill.
A four-fingered print has been left in the mud, A marker for guilt and a promise of blood. Late was the hour when the lacking man left, Forsaking his loved ones and regretting his theft.
'Don't bother,' I murmured, but distinctively loud enough for him to hear. A tear fell, but was soon discarded as he brushed his hand across my face, sweeping the hair out of my eyes.
I have been talking to a girl who I thought was really nice for a couple of days now but today I discovered her secret. She is a fake biatch who really enjoy to treat people badly.
In dark stone hallways I linger; hidden. Only the shadows you see. A ghost, a spirit, An apparition, Is all that I am to thee. A morbid plot Of execution Swirling about deep inside.
Rhyical's eyes were nearly as bright as planet Urea in the summer months. Sparkling aqua with hints of lavender. But they were slowly dying like the rest of us. I knew he would want me to carry on.
I cry in fear, I scream with hate. What gave us all This ugly fate. To meet upon The battle field, Where all must fight, And none can yield. I do not want To do whats right. I want to kill.
(what if your partner's family hated you as passionately as you loved... Then it ended.
She woke up in the morning, to find an empty pillow where he laid. Went down and drank a coffee, then finished off the other one she'd made.
My love.. Angel from above.. Raven hair.. So fair... Be there.. Our lair.. My cutie.. Such beauty.. To love is our duty.. The moor.. One I adore.. You fill my core.. Embrace.. The taste..
Fat flying vermin, no Tommy Guns in sight, eluding the stereotype. They have muscled their way on to your balcony. Using your house as a another dodgy front, for breeding their own little family.
Claudia sat on the wet grass, uncaring of the cool seeping through her clothes and chilling her skin. She sat by her sister's grave, laying a short collection of wild flowers at its base.
That week, I knew what needed to be done. Find who took my wife. Find my daughter. Have revenge. The dreams had stopped, instead I had a dream in which all I did was wake up.
There was a young girl that was sad, Which gave much pleasure to her mum and her dad, For her they despised, So she wasn't surprised, When they smacked her hard with a notepad.
This beating in my chest is to punish you. Solid, like cold silver. Your hands push my hair aside, I am a mystery to you.
I've just came to realize The truth in your eyes, You were lying all those years, Now you can't stop your tears. No, I won't wipe them away, They'll fall again and again.
Distant tears remind me of a life that we once shared. Memories of golden days of moments when I cared. Endless days of tears you cried, flooded like the rain.
Director had a camera A movie he did shoot He took it to Hollywood To try and bag some loot He took it to an office Where sat a talent scout Who watched director's movie And afterward did shout What...
I am the secret agent. You've read about in books. I've got the gadgets and the cars. And yes, I've got the looks. Turkish smokes with three gold bands. Suits from Savile Row. My missions are exotic.
I looked around the room. It was dull and bland, and there was nobody there except from Jonas and I. I sighed deeply and stared into his warm eyes. He grasped my hand, interlocking our fingers.
I am or at least WAS talking. I am or at least WAS walking. Until you bumped me or just talked, rudely interrupting me. Of course you did it, you always do. What have I, ever done to you.
Monday, the 30th of April 2012 the calendar showed as David Leeds Evans looked up and stared blankly at it. The classroom was quiet, maybe even a little too quiet.