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.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 12:32 AM UTC
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.
there is no godliness, only you, no gifts from god any longer, for I know the true giver of my heart