Sacchirine promises, sweet dreams, lost
You handed me a sweet dream laid enticingly upon a silver platter, sang to me sacchirine promises of a perfect life together. In desperation for such good, I took your promises as stone, I promised to hold you in return, and you promised to let me. Now it feels as though the sacchirine dream crumbles. The promises decay and wither upon the dead flowers of my soul. It's on me for believing that such a sweet dream could ever truly be my reality. That such delicious promises could ever really be held to, it's an unrealistic dream but my soul yearns achingly for the taste of such a life without the resonating pain watching the unrealistic crumble.
