Goodnight kisses placed upon the flesh of eager anticipation; a morning bouquet of roses found withering along the murky farewell.  They are not forgotten, because these memories hold the lost souls of poignant emotions.  Their tears drip honey upon the core’s sentiment.  Breathing into the darkness, the cold sensations becoming the objects of desire; sorrow beckons the hope of amnesia to erase an eternity.  Those feelings never go away nor can they be easily discarded; once the heart is stained by love it carries the mark like a scarlet letter.

Published by David W. Jones

Writer. Artist. Sleepless Blogger. Wrestling junkie. Comic-Book Nerd. Every moment is a story View all posts by David W. Jones