what I need is to tell you everything. 
the secret lies I hold within.
the secret of my love, the secret of my flight.
Hold not to the memory, but to the existance.
yet, for lack of better words I cannot.
if I died tomorrow.
he would never know how much I cared.
how much I wanted something more.
and if I didn't die.
then he wouldn't care.
the weight is only crushing me now.
I'm still alive.

                                           
-------------------------------------------------------

hearts are a frenzy made out of envy only to be laughed at by the highest of sorts...for hearts are not easily read by the one from outside...guessing games only make far until one must tell what is on thy heart....and if thou will not tell ones heart, envy shall take place, thus ones whom did not feel this will titter as thy cannot....for one cannot tell the love of the lie, for the love of the lie is told in love, as not to break the heart of the one told the lie....for if the spoken words mean nothing but that of words not acted upon....then the spoken words, not acted upon, are lies told out of love not laughed on by thee...

-------------------------------------------------------