A touch.
A fleeting illusion of closeness
shying away in the face of others.
Not much.
I don’t intend to pry. It’s useless.
It can bloom under the covers.
A touch.
A fleeting illusion of closeness
shying away in the face of others.
Not much.
I don’t intend to pry. It’s useless.
It can bloom under the covers.
Music | Literature | People.
Alternative haven for the Daily Post's mourners!
The official bulletin of the artist IMPREINT created to repost excerpts from 'En plein air'.
Make PEACE ✌ Show LOVE❤
Tips to make your daily life easier!
Sailing through emotions, letting them flow out as words, I'm charting the waters of life and writing as I venture.
Aren't songs of grief lullabies to the lost?
A Healthy Lifestyle
Follow the Journey...
