A lively, loving constant thought of what is caught yet what is not plan to find and course and plot in mind by source across a lot of questions and quitters, the ones who don't become the winners the sinners of the new age finding love on robots and becoming ever more bitter. But upon thy tounge a golden word just speak her name of fame, a quaint saint with much restraint respect opinion herself of which I shall never complain. But to miss a kiss of bliss and this undying love, a note in the fist the is read in bed and red is bled over spilt milk and mistakes wondering what more he could have said, she in his head presumed as dead of love and the roses he keeps at his bedside waiting for end of all dred by hightide the oceans cliff calls by proposal or his death by his volition, a position that makes it a mission to see her again and not make a decision or insition upon the skin she holds and scolds each mark but better with a kiss, he may think he is bold but each mark a cold reminder of the lies sold with smile of gold, so all of his cards he may fold. To give up anything for my love of my Dearest one, one perfectly won with each pun or poem with eyes bright as the sun and blonde locks of wonder, the ground rocks at the thunder that is my world shattering and becoming new, as it locks it's position in happiness and the gun he cocks he has thrown in the ocean off the fateful cliff. Present a ring the bling of marriage to bring this silly thing to an end. The mother who ended it will become mine, and my heart will sing. I will have her...love her, live her, breathe her, hold her, squeeze her, comfort her, protect her, keep her, and never hurt her fragile heart, for each part of this story of sorts is a fairy tale from the start and that it shall end and never restart. I time the pages may wither and fall apart but then there's room for another love story for someone else to feel as wonderful as I did with Codename: Angica.