Bereaving of the death of love, embraced by the cold winters of the absence, to beg and to have failed.
I count the lines on your palm, and I found nothing but me holding you.
And in the ravaging storms, he is at peace in your love.
The disarray of our worlds and the crossing of our souls, entangled in this winding mess, chaos brought us in here.
Hold my hand. Wrap your fingers, tightly on my hand, afraid to let it go.
Her gaze met his eyes, her cheeks became red and tears started building up on her eyes.
His mind resolves and has forgiven but the heart torments his soul.