Grin to squint on Sol's own cozy splendor,
Woe to know thee shan't embrace her.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
The moon’s an icy iron that them who long that stars were dreams and dreams were things hold gently to their hearts.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Lovely's she,
Who shuns the shrewd pursuer.
Whose heart's unbreached,
By he who heaves in reaching.
And I am cursed,
Of this of coarse,
That my heart laments to leave her.
For this I must,
Commit because,
She shuns the shrewd pursuer.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC