for I am too happy with who I am.
Birds singing, rain sprinkling and candy
in all possible variations.
Greeted by a hot door handle,
a nod and a smile, I sigh
feeling it creep underneath my skin
a sinner's last meal is meant to be...
Heat strokes attacking my eyes
filling them with warmth where cold resides
from now 'till forever.
Can't you see? I love this place.
I've been home where I did not intend,
now I long for yesterday's beating heart
and tomorrow's festivities.
He stands, serenading for who decides to pass.
Through a looking glass, he smiles at us,
sings one last song
before he packs his seven things
to leave this room in silence.
A flutter here, a whisper there.
He left us in despair, a place where
no Monroe is fair, no saint will share.
A place so empty,
echoes are scared.
Image from: http://jimduvall.deviantart.com/art/2004-20-37906976
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