December 20, 2009
We sat there, my head on her shoulder, resting in the crook of her neck. She held my hand, but didn't say a word. Thos moments where she knows I'm hurting and I know she's hurting and we sit there in quiet melancholy. Those are the moments that I cherish most. And when tears begin to streak down my face, she odesn't say a word. She just sits there, still as death, but for her hand in mine. Squeezing tight, telling me in her still, silent way that everything will be okay eventually.
And as Tears fall of my cheeks and down my nose to land in puddles on her arm, she rests her head on mine and let's a few tears escape her painfilled eyes.
those puddles on her arm and the stream running down my cheeks are bitter with pain and sweet with sorrow and the air we breath is thick with broken dreams and heavy hopes, but we will walk through those doors tall and smiling, creating an illusion of happiness and no one will see through the barrier to what lays beyond the castle walls.

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