Tainted love.
I just watched Moulin Rouge. Again. For about the 15th time.
But alas, it never fails to hit me hard.
And make me want to sit up all night and write about love, and everything that makes me tick, and tear.
It makes me bitter and demented, and makes me want to suffer so I can understand just remotly what something like that must feel like.
( It makes me dream. )
But alas, it never fails to hit me hard.
And make me want to sit up all night and write about love, and everything that makes me tick, and tear.
It makes me bitter and demented, and makes me want to suffer so I can understand just remotly what something like that must feel like.
( It makes me dream. )
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