When lips meet — yours to mine. Warming and calm.Troubles float away, like curled…
Oh — how the winter winds are cold.Yet I must go, I could not stay.It is not safe — or so I’m told.
Man’s recognition of his own fate,morality comes at the last grasp, too weak to catch a…
Hellos to hydration,dry lips of the near dead speak of love lost,times of steering the boat…
Never have I gained a thingWithout losing another thingI’m not sure that’s how it’s…