DsLilNymph

I was cold, you made a fire. The logs crackled like applause while you played your guitar and sang to me songs of love of broken roads and crossed stars; with every note I loved you more. You brought me flowers- no, in my mind you did, and that was all that really mattered. I kept them pressed neatly between Byron, Keats, and Shelly and the lines that made up you. You said that you had always loved me and that I was the only one, but I didn't really listen, I only heard what I wanted instead of what was important, your use of past tense regarding me. I was wrong, I was wrong, I made you grander than what you are. I built y