Sunday, 25 November 2012

Winter winds.

Isn't it so that time disturbs most everything?

More than anything, I fear putting myself within your grasp because time has a terrible habit of sweeping me away before anyone else can.

And yet it seems that love unused burns the strongest and the longest.
I think, if you took me back to that night, when you brushed my forehead with your lips with whispered words for only my hearing, forcing things to change, I think, I would have answered you differently. But who can know?

Time keeps ticking forward and this story is buried in the past.



  1. I hate it when things just change through one whisper...
    That whispers seems to change everything.
    And when I finally find the answer, the the whisperer is gone.

  2. How very much this story reminds me that mine is buried in the past too... :(