Sometimes I get angry when I miss you.
Sometimes I wish I really didn't care.
Sometimes I feel you when you're miles away.
Sometimes I want you near and sometimes I want to you leave me alone.
Sometimes when I hate you, I can't wait to hear your voice on my phone.
Sometimes I feel that it just was not fair
the way you lead me out to love,
Then left me there.
Sometimes I ache for you and I can't look in your eyes
Sometimes I feel the hurt in my chest and looking at you makes me cry
Sometimes I act like I am so tough
Sometimes I miss how you like it rough
and loud and messy, kinky and crazy
Sometimes, I wonder how I would act, if you never broutht that out of me
Sometimes I want to be cruel
just to get you to feel
Somehow you knew, guess I kinda did too
the taste wasn't real
Tainted and cursed
It was doomed from the start
Sometimes I wish, I would've never opened my heart
Yet this has shown me so many things
That with all the disappointment
A fine man to me, love will bring
He will put me on a pedestal, worship my every breath
He will thank God and the heavens far and wide for me
The angels will sing when we kiss
I will prepare all his meals, our clean home will be his sanctuary
The oven will always be warm and our bedroom will be his palace
He will have however he should wish
He will respect me and I will honor him
We will teach other and learn together
He will be a warrior of mighty heart and mind
He will take me as I am, we will be happy until the end of time
He will weep openly in sorrow and joy equally
He will take me as his Goddess and he will be my King
There will be endless blessings upon our home
Our children will grow smart and strong
We will rejoice in great health and good futurne
He is comming for me and it won't be long
Sometimes, I thought I knew it would be you
I was bursting at the seams,
and there was not enough time for me to reach the glue.
Sometimes, in ourselves, we create our own truth
Sometimes we make mistakes, my most recent one was you
1 comment:
"The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing"
"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat"
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