Monday, June 25, 2007

Untitled

"Because somewhere, just somewhere out in that small island, someone is thinking of you."

Never knew how much of me you constituted of till I saw you go. A part of me died, when I let you go.

But always remember:

"Maybe if we think of how there's purpose in what we do, we might find the strength to move on."

Yeah, move on till I find you in my arms again.

posted@6:20 AM

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