She simply cannot bear the thoughts anymore, her heart lies in bed as her soul wanders the streets. She seems lost, but only for a moments time. The breath is visible and the chill unreachable. A search continues for that one stem of a rose once loved. Her hands creep through the winter and finally blossoms scent her brow. The dab of oil travels far and strikes the travelers nose. She finds herself lost in the translation of his body language and consumed with his eyes, azure and so alone.

With the morning a new day marked by a sunrise...and with the night a new day marked by a sunset. Painted in simplicity and perfection, one does not dwell on the beauty trying to find every facet to the rising and falling of the colors. If they do, than they do not know Life. For it was meant to be cherished, and never thrown into a fast approaching wind.

Running away is always an option.


--this wont be erased due to the only popular demand**