Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Monday, 23 December 2013

A time.

There was a time when we just loved,
Could we go back there?
Before the thistles came,
When the soil was good.
This would be my gift to you,
That we would care for nothing,
But one another's love.
This would be my promise to you,
That we need nothing else,
But one another's love.

©GONZOLECTURE 

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