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on a lovely winter’s mornnot a leaf or twig or thorncould poke up past the icy sheetor through the overlying sleet.so, comfortably we walk barefooton a footprint...
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The beating of my broken heart, now chained and locked away, I hear much louder, through the night, than words we never say. As hollow kisses turn to dust and fall against my skin, I pray that I...
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I awake to the aroma of fresh apple pie, which makes me rise from my nightly lie. I walk out into the autumn air, the wind blowing into my curly hair. The outside world smells of pumpkin spice,...