Sabtu, 29 Mei 2010

Broken . Broken . Broken .

Once it's broken so many times
you start to lose pieces . . .
So its just best, if I keep it to my self for now
on before I lose too much
I am already in too deep . . .


My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence, long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once - or yield to song.

- Lord Byron


"I really love you, 'till I have to let you go, dear ."

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