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Array
(
[sid] => 30198
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Fingerprints
[time] => 2003-12-26 19:47:52
[hometext] => 'Walking away, it isn't the same as running is it?' A rub-off of my heart wreck... You have no trace on your hands from this...
[bodytext] => I sit down, or stand or lie and think of all the things I never want to do again I think of what I should have never done and this is when I think of you my shortest of short love stories I've written too many of you shaken ink & quick running blood in a bottle to write you I read you with tears and regret for chaser my shortest of short love stories we were on the same page then you turned pages as I wrote them but then closed the book on my pen Another short story about a girl who can't read guess you didn't know what all my scribblings could mean I wish I at least could've taught you regret but this story only made me less of a teacher ...and more of a mess my shortest of short love stories I hope someone teaches you regret I hope that someone steals your heart and breaks it in their hand I hope someone makes you shudder and cry I hope you miss them whenever you see their fingerprint whenever you see that rub-off of your heart-wreck I hope this because I hate picking up my bleeding pen and remembering that you shut the book on it my shortest of short love stories oh what a mess, my inky shaking hands leaving black fingerprints on everything I touch you have no trace on your hands from this but I... have no heart to write with no heart to write on... not anymore... not anymore... not anymore... [comments] => 4 [counter] => 435 [topic] => 6 [informant] => Written2bRead [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
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