Tuesday, October 13, 2009

If my heart were a house, you'd be home.

Everything's coming to an end; and I don't know whether to be happy, sad, disappointed, frustrated, worried, apprehensive, excited. Someone tell me what to feel.

It's a crossroads sans the splintered wooden sign board and the handy Book of Directions in my back pocket, so what do I do now? Because intuition in all its supposed trustworthiness led me straight into your clutches - and God knows what a tragedy that was - so give me something to believe in.

You're insurmountable and like the romantic looney I am, these whimiscal notions haven't faded. Not one bit.

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