...play on, my orchestra.

(I CAN'T SLEEP! and I HAVE WORK TMR...i'm done.)

With every breath
he creates serenity with a ballad.
With every step
he takes, the world will motion onwards.
With every touch,
he strokes hatred into affection.
With every word,
speech acquires a higher significance.

So, love,
help me breathe. Breathe me rose petals on the floor. THROW me into your music.
help me move. Take my hand...DIRECT ME FORWARD...away from my memories.
help me touch. My heart bleeds black...paint me a canvas with TRUE PIERCING RED BLOOD.
help me speak. Help me say those three words. I want you to know...that I do lov...