Fortress. Let's go build a fortress, To keep out all the pain, Let's go mend my broken heart, And make it whole again. You can't pretend to understand, Or to know how I feel, But let's plaster up my broken heart, And teach it how to heal. I'm swallowed up in your angel eyes, They're kind and pure an true, You want to give me back my heart, It already belongs to you. Your kind and caring hands, With the rest of you could leave, But with your magic healing fingers, You sew my heart back to my sleeve. So let's go build a fortress, To keep out all the pain, Let's go mend my broken heart, And make it whole again.

Flocks Of Thoughts. Should I wear a hat when writing? To avoid my thoughts escaping and flying off in flocks of sparrows. Who will I be then? My eyes will lose their colour and my cheeks their rosyness. Just another pretty face.

Rainbow Eyes. Ringing the pupil, a muddy brown, they are streaks of pain, all the horrors of the world cloud her vision and dilute her senses. Next comes a splash of green, she's jealous of all the pretty girls with their lashes and curls. Not far after comes splashes of black as doubt gets a hold on her soul. Soon a ring of yellow, for all the meagre joy she has. And then the red, for the boy she loves.

Strawberries. The wind whipped my hair as we found comfort in each others arms. We dangled our legs off the peer, teasing the waves with our wriggling toes. The bitter sea air clung to my lashes and made my eyes water. "why are you crying" he asked caressing my wind whipped cheek. "I'm not" i said burying my nose in his strong shoulder. "I love you, I bloody love you!" he murmured into the crown of my head. I peered up at him, such passion I saw in his melting eyes, I loved him too. I closed the gap between us, pressing my chapped lips to his, hungry for him, I wanted him so badly, I loved him. His shoulders caved in around me and locked me in the embrace. He would never let me go. "I love you" I told him. "your lips taste of strawberries" he replied. I smiled.

Clockwork. I peeled back the porcelain mask of the body and tensed. What would I find? Was it worth knowing? No, I had to do this. I owed him that much at least. Concentrating, I flung the mask to the side where it shattered against a wall, before I had time to rethink my decision. The glass was iced with a thick layer of dust, they sparkled and danced on the clockwork head, made me think of nymphs or faries. The body was the same, all clockwork, cunning but obvious in retrospect. It explained the quiet tune she hummed constantly, the jerky movements and the rock hard porcelain skin. The reason she never showered or drank. She didn't eat and she didn't sleep. Now, what to do with the broken nuts, bolts and cogs that had enchanted and murdered my best friend?