||[Feb. 2nd, 2007|11:18 pm]
|||||the tune of a small guitar...||]|
It's time I told you: I'm ending it. What we have, whatever it is, is finished. Yes, I do realize what this means. No more sexy breakfasts or shower olympics, or coffee royals, or impromptu whipped cream wars, or mid-December lawn tennis, or, you know, that thing we did with the lit candles. No more any of that. We had a good run, while it lasted. Best of luck, Bitch.
And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-- you your Art...
-- Oscar Wilde