Rock Stars and the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

It's odd. I'm in his house right now. And I wonder, will we come here again? Can this sustain miles of open road, littered with fights and bad choices? Can she and I survive in a place so large I feel swallowed up by the very thought of it? My time is running out, moments are fleeting as we speak and I know somewhere in this house, in a room not too far from where I am, she sees him. Another side of him that no one else sees and all I want is for her to be happy. And he seems so nice, like he always is, welcoming us in like our very own homes. His house smells like houses tend to smell. I fear, I do not want to steal the souls of the objects his money bought. I do not wish to invade his privacy like some baboon... I just wish that for her, I could steal these pieces so she would always remember just how beautiful she is... that she is beautiful enough for a lovely rock star, one who calls her friends heartbreakers... one who hugs you like you're his sister even though you're not. I pray that this will work... I pray he is the one and that things will fall together perfectly. I can only hope that God has something marvelous planned for my dear sweet George.