January 3rd, 2009, 2:49 PM
I was on crack when I wrote this poem.
January 3rd, 2009, 5:49 PM
You... you just can't help yourself, can you? You go through all the motions, make sure everything sounds right, everything comes out just the way you expected, but it always comes back to square one, doesn't it? This seems true not only of your writing as a whole, but of the love that is represented by this poem. It's classic, almost cliche, and because of that I can't help but like it. Death is inevitable, and inevitability has a pattern. Love, and a lack thereof.
January 3rd, 2009, 6:32 PM
Aww, I thought I avoided death in this one, though. No matter. Thank you.
How can I not help myself?