Thursday, August 04, 2005
Playing with time
she never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i'th'bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like a patience on a monument
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
aisyah is funness [no naz not that aisyah]
hockey today, tomorrow and saturday.lets just all die from sheer exhaustion now.
still considering track and field. =(((
bye now all you pathetic little homo sapiens. the bed beckons.haha.