A little hole in my heart, growing deeper black day by day. A little larger with every passing second. It's an ache, a want, a need. A sweetly painful feeling, like the smell of week-old death. It's a burning, ice cold earthquake of lightning pulsing with every beat. Seering my veins and ripping them anew. It's love, darling, and it hurts.
| Poetry | 09/08/2005 | Broken floors and shattered glass |
| Poetry | 09/10/2005 | Broken Beauty |
| Poetry | 09/12/2005 | The Ballet Dancer |
| Poetry | 09/14/2005 | Wishing, hoping, dreaming... |
| Poetry | 09/16/2005 | ~*Untitled*~ |
| Poetry | 09/20/2005 | Pitter Patter |
| Short Story | 10/04/2005 | Love vs. Time |
| Poetry | 10/20/2005 | Invisible wounds |
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