Feb 2019
I marvel at the glassy sheen of auburn eyes,
burning like firestorms of fresh winter hair,
and to entwine with mine is but a gift from,
you.
burning like firestorms of fresh winter hair,
and to entwine with mine is but a gift from,
you.
*there is no godliness, only you, no gifts from god any longer, for I know the true giver of my heart*
