He knows it... the whisper of her touch and the lilacs of her eyes growing in the graveyard of his heart. In his dreams he hangs, bound by her name, suspended, swinging, on her raven hair... He knows her, the kiss never tasted and the feel of her skin, the milk and cold... He remembers, the things never lived, a walk through the maze inside of his mind... And this is the one he loves, the one he adores, the girl with unbroken spider web between her fingers... The echo of her laughter makes him weep his sorrow, while she comes picking red apples of his soul.
Old and well, unexpectedly romantic...I kinda dug it up from the old hd and couldn't suppress the urge to submit it. I still like the images... Written for a dear friend and written quite some time before I was on dA