clutched i have sands of time in my hands cage can i the fragrance of your flesh in my mind guess feelings is all i can feel i guess thoughts are all that really mean to me.
There's something beautiful about lazily following a old Favorites link and stumbling upon wonderful words... A bit like waking up from a afternoon nap to see golden sunshine in a rainwashed evening... :)
How do you like Dumas? He's an old friend... From long lonely school-day nights...
4 Comments:
clutched i have sands of time in my hands
cage can i the fragrance of your flesh in my mind
guess feelings is all i can feel
i guess thoughts are all that really mean to me.
There's something beautiful about lazily following a old Favorites link and stumbling upon wonderful words... A bit like waking up from a afternoon nap to see golden sunshine in a rainwashed evening... :)
How do you like Dumas? He's an old friend... From long lonely school-day nights...
Thought originates in your silent surface but rains on it also Wondering at this beautiful paradox but, understand I can - perfectly.
Ehsaas hain.
Dumas, revisited. No greater story teller lived.
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