We’re all a tragic story waiting to be written, assuming someone’s so inspired.
Starry abyss I’ve wished uponbetween the listless, sleepless nights,is burdened beyond mountain heightswith woes that emanate ‘til dawn. In times of need, we may move onto seeking signs through zodiac.The constellations neatly stackedpaint a pattern across the pit(t). Who do... Continue Reading →
A peach pit wastedunder leaves of naked treesas sweater fuzz flies This post was made possible by Ronovan Writes.
No idea what to do with the excess calories I get from all the love you withhold from me.