How it Feels to be Thick as a Brick:The Danger of Being a "Hopeless Romantic" (and the Music that Proves it)
Music sweet music/I wish I could caress, caress, caress/Manic depression’s a frustrating mess.--Jimi
The world was on fire No one could save me but you. Awww. Sounded so mushy gushy perfect, when ya fell for him—The One. Sounded so beautiful, so right, didn’t it? He was sooo attentive and he was sooo good in bed and he bought you this and courted you that and he said he was never letting you go for the rest of your life and he was sooo ohhhhhh. His smell was a man and pheromone delight that made you ache to eat his air. His long lashed eyes were firm yet laughing. He tasted like rain. And he adored you, found the best made, best played songs of all time and so you swooned and gurgled and gooed till you felt guilty that quite possibly you had sucked all the happiness from the planet all for you, while millions, only the lonely, searched so desperately for the love you piggly wallowed in. Spring was not cruel but a mud fresh freedom you breathed in and tingled over.
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