This is just for the record. My giraffe is not in love with the buffalo, it was always the deer. Always. And I hadn't a clue. Nature playing tricks at it's best.
Like somebody (haven't figured out a name for those who are'nt friends but yet close) says if there was something called jurisprudence of love, I'd make it real big, so I thought I'd pen down a few thoughts.
You don't love me. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
You probably never will. Not complaining. Really. Tears don't mean that.
But theres something that tells me that Im your angel. Love never goes waste you see. I pray you be happy, the deer is o.k. with me. Something tells me I give you strength, maybe remind you that it's a beautiful life. Something tells me that I'm your angel. That's what I want to be.
The heart feels beautiful, pure. It knows it's depth. Because of you. Like I said it is joy with tears. For some reason the heart believes that you think I'm beautiful and you think I'm your angel. And the heart believes that being somebodys angel brings more joy than being somebodys world. I just wish the tears would stop.
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