Cluttered brainwork; befuddled musings.

I am disconsolate without doubt, withered by our estranged, ever-changing love. Pressed to forget the torments that have been scattered throughout the divisions of my brain, only to languish in the name of lost intrepidity. Still I must trace the outline of your lips; frustrations come and go like clouds. A broken voice spills out of your eyes; your windows, and your words could keep me locked away forever, yet your actions would amend my soul.