For me. For you. For us.
Delighted was the selfish heart,
When he was writing;
Ignoring bleeding fingers
To edit and create the art,
Which took away the breath
of caprice taste.
The heart was gleeful
But unfair,
Demanding more than he could give;
and abruptly
The end was near –
The heart destroyed. The heart was weak.
we wrote and forged through the life of love and loss...
Motherhood and Addiction
A writer with no name 👽
writer, reader, naturelover, conservationist
I am a cocktail mixed of Fire & Ice. I can be an angel & become a devil next moment, But trust me if you are good to me u will see my wings.
Adorn the Traditional
my sweet escape
