Our love...
Our love is like a climbing rose holding on with all its force to a rusted iron fence, it thrives, grows, in spite of itself, and wether it is wanted or not... it will never die, for if it did, like an old well whose water has dried up and can no longer satiate thirst it would become the echo of what it once was and it would be, as its always been, the only thing in our minds, the last, the first. Loves like yours and mine are like a fire... they consume all, and ours will burn bright untill... Sign in to see full entry.