Nightingale (written for the Bee in my life) |
Sometimes I wish I could walk him home;Let the wind pick up speed to push the hair out of his face;There are a million starsbehind the pale lacquer on my facethat shine when he laughs,it's like I have...
Posted by on Wed, 22 Apr 2009 17:57:00 GMT |
Every breath is a bomb. |
Like the cold parts of the treesthat freeze up during winterOr the only part of air that you can actually feel when the wind blowsDoes that air move on to touch somebody else?Is it possible to move ...
Posted by on Thu, 08 Nov 2007 19:42:00 GMT |
