tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586430496499495922011-07-30T19:38:44.557-07:00i don't really know if people read blogs. i don't really care whether or not they would. i just want to have this place where i can rave and rant, curse and complain, be tearul and look back into the past... be happy, laugh, and smile for free.iron venomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02792033573704033641noreply@blogger.comBlogger11100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58643049649949592.post-75438711420444903212008-12-05T19:23:00.000-08:002010-05-28T19:47:02.263-07:00<div id="msgcns!81E4BAF8F6508B30!123" class="bvMsg"> <div style=" color: rgb(112, 48, 160);font-family:Tahoma;"> <p><span style="font-size:85%;">is it too hard to see, feel and believe that someone can love you this way? that his hair between my fingers feel like mittens on a dreary winter morning… his warmth, brings shivers down my spine… his breath tickling every inch of my body… MAKES IT ALL GO AWAY. every pain, every stupid perception, every predicament i so successfully brought upon myself… GONE. just like that.</span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">how can he be wearing that simple shirt and still be my ultimate eye candy the whole night? why would his <em>unperfumed </em>self still smell so deliciously yet elegantly sweet? maybe love doesn't only make people go blind, but i guess it impairs our sense of smell as well... i just never notice if he stinks or not. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">he laughs and smiles and just leave me melting, waiting for the next one… like a child looking into a kaleidoscope. it doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together, how much time we’ve spent around each other, or how comfortable i am around him. he still makes me want check myself in the mirror, every chance i get, making sure i look pretty for him. coz the moment he says “you look pretty…”, is a moment too divine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">how can he hold me so close in silence and make it the perfect way to spend the rest of the day? why is his gaze so deep that it bores right into my soul and just leaves me fighting for dear life. it’s like this pleasure of suffocating in something so profoundly needed… and i often find myself speaking without making any sense.</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">he doesn’t say much… but when he does, you’d know it’s real. you’d know he meant every word. there's no way i could never measure how much i mean to this person. he's not used to words. he’s outgrown the teenage fantasies of true love and worldly desires that i still firmly hold on to... he knows what he wants and he knows how to get it... without grace nor subtlety, never ever sweet...</span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">and yes; this might end… sometimes i feel that it should. but let me be selfish for now and i’d pretend there’s no tomorrow. all we have is now.</span> </p></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/58643049649949592-7543871142044490321?l=floramay.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>iron venomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02792033573704033641noreply@blogger.com0