Remember.
The apple that
killed
Snow White was a masterpiece brewed from the poison of jealousy.
Not hate.
antique, gold.



written on Monday, April 9, 2012 6:07 AM




Whatever I am best at, you are better than that.

That's all I have been trying to say. You worry that you are not good enough when in actual fact, you are more than anything I could have ever asked for.

Definitely beautiful, nonetheless gorgeous. God didn't feel stingy when he was giving you looks.

Cute as ever, just like the time when anyone else had you. Now it has all changed. I'm the only one who has the honor. The privilege of having physical contact and to show you off to the world, but I'd rather hide you up and clothe you for the fear of losing what I treasure the most.

Gold. In it's finest. Pity it wasn't handled well in the past. Dirty and rusted.

Our favourite Gold.

Ours.

B.