The Salt Blowing Off The

Sometimes I'm Afraid To Go To Sleep Because Of What I'm Leaving Behind.

I Wonder If This Is How People Always Get Close: They Heal Each Other's Wounds; They Repair The Broken Skin.

Funny How Time Heals. Like That Bullet In My Ribs. It's There, I Know It's There, But I Can Barely Feel It At All Anymore.

He Is My World And My World Is Him And Without Him There Is No World.

Black Is Too Morbid; Red Will Set Them On Edge; Pink Is Too Juvenile; Orange Is Freakish