Do you?

Do you hope he will buy me flowers, do you hope he will hold my hand? Give me all his hours when he has the chance, take me to every party, do you even remember how much I love to dance?

Your smile can hide everything.

If happiness was a rare thing, nobody would know it. Since everybody knows what it's like to be happy. It's there where you know it must be, in your heart.

Is there hope?

What's about love,

that which we feel

by any other feeling

would still feel as the only thing that matters. 

This is now.

That heart inside,

is her guide,

as she travels in the night.

That brain of her,

is still awake,

for the pain,

'cause it was fake.

Comfortable hiding.

Like fire and rain,

beauty and pain,

trying to hide the stain. 

You've got a friend in me.

My little Picasso.  ♥