FayetteAethelwyne

The light from the living room window cascaded into the shadowy room, creating a ring of shining light through his dad's greying hair. Still laying back in the same position as before he held his scotch and cigarett, ashen to the tips of his fingers. The mans eyes staring at the ceiling with unblinking amazement so it seemed. He was gone, so quickly he had left his son. Sid, incapeable of doing just about anything at that moment began to feel his own tears create little streams down his cheeks, not knowing what else to do he removed his hat and continued to weep for his father. Perfect, he thought. I have nothing, no home, no love and not ev

She's writing frantically at her cove in the university library, tucked in a secret sort of place, and with the way she writes it seems even more hidden to the rest of us out in reality. I find myself unable to turn away from her, although I can't see her, hidden behind her raven black hair and arms sprawled across the desk as if protecting the page from all wandering eyes. As she continues I take this opportunity to take a closer look. From my seat I can see that she is very different, she wears a classy checked dress with a cowl neck and capped sleeves, it lands just at her knees. She has a leather jacket tucked around the arm of her chair

All We Really Want Is Love's Confusing Joy. We kiss, gentle and quick. His attempts to make a quick getaway are swiftly interjected by my intuition, he slips out a quivering goodbye and already I'm there, in his arms holding him. With his head burrowed deep into the curve of my neck, and he breaks into a sob and all I can do is hold him, kiss him, feel him, love him. I understand the term a "broken heart", but from false knowledge I believed it to be a metaphor relating to the loss of one's significant other or a result of death. But never, had I felt so broken, so useless. My heart hurts, aches, and cries out to him, as he fists my shirt in