Arrows aimed and bullets fired, all with the careful intent of cracking rib cages. Each arrow, a promise; each bullet, a lie…and another beating heart is lost. Time should have healed it. (Time killed it.)
The truth about the truth is, it hurts. So we lie. When we say that time heals all things, what we really mean is, death heals all things. That which time should have healed, dies…hung up on a careless nod.
Time heals nothing. Death heals all things. A promise, a lie, and a twenty-four-hour drug store. Love is a myth…and my seven-dollar overdose begs me to sleep. (Time killed me.)
Ghosts love in any way they please…but don't we all.