She walked with her hands intertwined right the way wrap-around, all that life was offering her on up – one round of applause per preciously suited time

She was a kind, kind soul was she

Was indeed willing to make amends for any known impossibilities

Her face, steered upwards towards, tasting every single dry-wit feature from the beating hot, seriously begotten sun

And she twisted her pretty tattoo emblemed knees … and here did sit a courteous lady by the perfect placement of where better people knew to ready themselves to forever remain

Others talk and chitter-chatter – far less smarter than they give themselves utter credit for, and uncontrollable motormouths for their hurting worth

Running on f**king decrepitude empty

About this ‘n’ fabricated-from-poisonous-fiction that
Insane thing called unrequited love

Where jovial stories go to more often than not collude aside deceptively collide … to inter-breathe and KILL … Made up, misfired lies altogether misinterpreted at painstaking will

Yet somehow, anyhow … only her own fashioned from diction *god really can know how, did she manage to take from one thirst-ridden insatiable person and to trust her manifested gift to another such deserving soul

She concentrated and made sure to make everywhere make her very own kind of bespoke sense again … When she took one sudden last breath and threatened to interpret it all in a most outlandishly delightful way

Yes, she says what she sees, and pays it forward like only she ever can