Jul 2015
Glowing constellations and powdered snow,
Fingers intwined under the cashmere blanket.
I promise, I swear, whispered over and over,
The broken record, near the crumbling bodies.
Fingers intwined under the cashmere blanket.
I promise, I swear, whispered over and over,
The broken record, near the crumbling bodies.
Their bodies are dead, but the promises their souls made reverberate through time.
