every year, the sky weaves a blanket of snow and places it gently onto the earth, slowly
suffocating what once was alive, and
suffocating parts of me that have yet to die, I wonder,
*what could possibly be left to **** in a graveyard*.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC
every year, the sky weaves a blanket of snow and places it gently onto the earth, slowly
suffocating what once was alive, and
suffocating parts of me that have yet to die, I wonder,
*what could possibly be left to **** in a graveyard*.
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