Words come up and stumble on the threshold of my lips they dance, impatient, tapping on my teeth with pretty fluted serif edges pulling colours from the sea, the sky from the me myself and I that ache to weave fine silk from half-born, limping concepts that wilt, unsaid in darkened hallways cluttered up with thought with visions of some future drawn by strange impatient hands that do not know the pause between two heartbeats is forever the place where love is made, sins are forgiven, breath taken for the smile to mark the coming dawn.
bajanblue Forum Posts (3,724)
It's always fun to know which images catch people. Thanks
RE: Fun with words...
No point in barking up that tree, it comes with its own texture.