Remember.
The apple that
killed
Snow White was a masterpiece brewed from the poison of jealousy.
Not hate.
seven pages of remorse



written on Sunday, April 8, 2012 11:02 PM




I had three long, tiring nightmare last night.

None of them involved you, but all of them consists of me holding on to my dear life because I was so terrified with the thoughts of what might become of you if I didn't make it back.
Somehow, you became the sole reason why lately I bother struggling at all.

I never got to know how things ended. Never will, I suppose. Waking up with bits of perspiration resting on the shallow valley of my breasts, I wondered if these occured in your sleep instead, would you have done the same?

Already skeptical since I do realise how seldom I come across your mind.