eliciting elephantine effusions
from between my lips;
lusty loquacious lover
tantalizingly timid, tacit
desires seeking my attention.
And yet that awful, attacking, caustic smell cannot overpower the stench of love that creeps under, and through, the cracks in the door behind me.
Fuck... Frank next time you want to confess to me your misplaced feelings of affection Try doing it when I havent drowned myself in half of this, cheap and charmless, bars supply of corrosive, lung burning, mind wasting, vodka.
You dont love me Frank...
You dont even know what the word means...
How dare you destroy everything weve built together just because you couldnt squash that burning desire to purge out your confused confessions of delusional love?
You want to undo years of friendship because youve decided theres something between us?
What was I to you?
Was our friendship a lie?
All those moments that weve shared together What do they mean now?
You sung out confessions of love and desire
At that point, the government declared a state of emergency and martial law, but really it was too late. Chaos had erupted and zombies were crawling the streets at night, eating and infecting anyone that they found. At the point that they started breaking into homes to pull survivors to their deaths, the remaining government and military officials decided to actually do something to help.
People were air lifted from the roofs of apartment buildings as armored convoys led by tanks moved through the streets to rescue uninfected people from their homes. My lover and I were one of the tw
When the call of Youre next sir, becomes a taunt you know youve been here too long.
Gerard turned his head to watch the man sitting behind him rise in response. That guy had definitely arrived after him.
He looked down at his hand; the blood soaked torn piece of shirt was still there tied neatly in place.
Maybe he was dying he told himself. Maybe, he thought, he was really ill. Gerards eyes followed the now condemne
But of course they don't.
None of them have your pale flawless skin or dark delicate features.
None of them move in a way that is elegance refined or speak and sigh and sing like you do.
But I search nonetheless... And I'll never stop looking... For that one... The one that could dare to hope to replace you.
How long have I been looking, hoping, before he catches my eye?
He has that fragile look about him that was always painted on you.
I'm clutching at straws here in the dim and shadows of this rundown bar.
As I watch him sitting there I realise he's attractive in an unassuming way... It's a simple beauty that strangely I feel myself becoming lost in.
You, I recall, were always stunning; even in the most mundane of instances.
He sits alone running his fingers over the rim of his glass; occasional nervous glances up are strangely charming when coming from him.
He's very much hiding; hiding behind his cool hair cut and hi