I’m waging war on my clock!
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Then you spoke. You said “we ran out of West.”
the only difference between a flower bed and a graveyard is the type of potential you bury in both. one is full of dead credentials, the other full of hope.
I want my gravemarker to read “Her love was torrential.”
I have so much to say and yet I do not speak. I have so little time for rhymes, and still I do not sleep. I have only a sliver of heart left, but I do not weep; for all the words I keep inside are hidden and keep me meek. Because eventually when the […]
*Warning: Mature Content* What is contained inside a chocolate kiss?
Pining for the love of a poet.