techocolored dreams, and sun-drenched stars.
this infinity of pure light made my eyes heavy
and my love hopeless.
everything heard was a lie and the sad, pathetic
thing about this is for a moment i believed in you.
dear,Next Mother Theresa.
oh, you're a saint.
you really are.
killing me with my bruised up heart.
i hope your cannoniztion is nitroglycerinly beautiful.
love, Your [dead] Friend who you stabbed with a cross and sealed her coffin with a kiss.
my heart was shattered and those butterflies lay dead.
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