Grafika

those hands which once felt like home seems to the the same hands casting the stones, i wish i could offer my help, but your heart is cold all wickedness has taken its tole and slowly she breaks her heart no longer has what it takes to strive through the night fragile to touch, sensitive to words, a broken frame held up by a nail no longer eligible a picture that deserves a thousand takes a thousand glances no chance for mistake let me mend your heart heal your crimson touch ignite your spark that was once lost amount of lust, passion and love