Aug 2013
i ache for the trees.
i ache for their gentle whispering of secrets and the endless conversations like the ones i had with the trees and their spirits when i was a young child.
i ache for the soft mumble of a lover— the half-conscious, unfiltered, 3 a.m. confessions that are often either disregarded or forgotten after awaking the next day.
i ache for their gentle whispering of secrets and the endless conversations like the ones i had with the trees and their spirits when i was a young child.
i ache for the soft mumble of a lover— the half-conscious, unfiltered, 3 a.m. confessions that are often either disregarded or forgotten after awaking the next day.
