"risking" poems
Munting hiram na buhay, When will this rented
kelan pa yayaon? lifetime pass?
Pina-walang kabuluhan Time has taken
ang oras na lumipas. the sense of things.
Panahon na sinaksi I have witnessed
pawang di akin sarili. what is not mine.
Kelan ang katapusan? When will this end?
Sa oras ng pagtanggap In accepting
ng tinig mo? Irog, your voice? My dear,
ika'y aking kamatayan. you are my death.
Ano ang pinangakong Where is
payapa at galak, peace and joy
kung puso'y sumisikap if the heart still toils
sa inaasahang pangarap? towards it's endeavors?
Kelan mabubuksan When will I unlock
ang pagkakataon ng pangakong the promise
ligaya mula sa kamay mo? from your hands?
Di pa sapat ang pagsunod? Is compliance not enough?
Asan na ang hinanap pangarap na ligaya, Where is happiness
mula sa pawis, pagnanasa? sought with sweat and desire
Gawin ang lahat of risking all
sa anumang konsekwnsya? no matter what?
Sino ako? Taong Who am I? so presumptive
mapangahas sa sariling kalooban, of my own will,
ligaw sa ilang, lost in the wild,
lasing sa layaw, drunk for indulgence,
lulon sa kadiliman at kawalan. drowned into its depths.
ano ako sa Yo? what am i to You?
yapak. footprints.
alabok. dust.
pinag-duraang basura ng lansangan. garbage spit in the street.
Ginawa mo aking kapalaran, You made me thus,
palayok at pinggan. as a clay ***
Sa yong kagustuhan Transformed and used
tadhanang pupuntahan. for what you forge.
Aking tanggap I accept
kawalan ng karapatan, lost of rights,
pagsuko ng kalayaan, surrendered freedom,
layag sa kagustuhan, adrift from wants,
yaong kababaan. and lowly.
Paglisan ng sarili, bihag when i abandon myself, as Your
at lingkod mo, captive and servant
nawa'y malaya sa mundo. may i be free of this world.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
tell me...
will tomorrow bring,
all the things
i'm longing...
stowed upon its elusive wings,
tirelessly beating
and fighting
to show what's dangling
and hanging...
ready for the picking...
awaiting...
such time so it could begin its need for unloading,
delivering
and dropping,
its gleaming
treasures
on those who are deserving,
in no way lacking
so they could be at the receiving
end of this pressurising,
inking
of dwindling
words...
careless thoughts conceived only to
fuel
my deranged ramblings...
incessant mutterings of a shattering
mind...
bending backwards, almost breaking,
risking...
the chance of ever fully
mending...
hoping and praying
for a sentence that's pending
dawn's approval...
allowing
the rising
of the sun...
paving
ways for thriving
wishes,
unbarring
gates for soaring
dreams, unlocking
latches,
relieving...
the heightening
anxieties of grieving
hearts.
constantly whispering
utterances, promising
good will, happiness
and titillating
sanity.
we're thinking...
the earth is spinning,
the moon is setting,
so the sun must be rising
but...
tell me,
tomorrow...
is it coming?
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
I’m sick of hearing my life’s a haiku.
I’m into magic, love, and other sorts of things that are typically voodoo.
I’m half ***** from a half assed absent African baby boomer brat.
I’m half white trash.
Here’s a well formed of dried tears turned into something to sooth my canine teeth.
It tastes like Moonshine.
I can’t swim anymore, so I’m here drowning in a concrete pool.
Always, I look for the hell in you.
I sharpen my boot knife for ****** assault protection.
The first swipes for the plus 200,000 in counting.
The seconds for the 66 percent underreported.
The lasts for me,
the 29 percent victims aged 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, and 12.
We have a higher rate of risking everything.
For depression x3.
For committing suicide x4.
For post traumatic stress disorder x6.
For alcohol abuse x13.
For drug abuse x26.
You all think I’m crazy,
I’m not.
I sometimes get called
stupid, ugly, ***** and thot.
I’m in pain, in sorrow.
I can’t help it.
He did it.
No one can undo it.
What do we do about it?
I wont scream, I won't cry.
I’ll ask how he’s doing with glitter and tears in the corner of my eye.
And after he's done molesting me,
"Want to go grab some coffee or tea?"
Personally, I like the cafe down the street.
They sell good brunch with amazing croissants.
And after this is over,
I’d ask him how it was while he turned me over.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
A Muslim boy with a clock
Is seen as a terrorist with a glock
Maybe i'm right, maybe i'm wrong
But if he were White, Asian, Hispanic or even Pacific Islander
Nobody would of suspected anything.
When are we going to stop fearing an entire race for only a portion radical and illogical ways of treating others?
I don't tolerate people who behead others if they don't agree with their religion
I don't agree with the repressive governments that control everyone and stone them for minor misdemeanors
There are good men out there fighting this evil that has plagued their homelands
I'm all for ending terrorism of all kinds
But let's stop terrorism of innocents too
Sure, i'm afraid of what the radicals will do to their own people, my people and the rest of the world
But i'll be dammed if i treated somebody from the Middle East like a monster when i don't even know who they are
If it wasn't for a Middle Eastern girl
The Syrians girls wouldn't have an improved education
If it wasn't for a Middle Eastern man fending off the Taliban and risking his entire village to keep Marcus Littrell alive
He would of been KIA a long time ago.
What about the ones who fought and died for America?
Nobody ever mentions them
The media wants me to hate them all, but i laugh and shake my head
Warped minds trying to warp others
I only see the ones who want to do us harm, and the ones who want to live peacefully and away from a life of hell
Brothers and sisters, just a different culture and skin color
I'm sorry if America seems racist or hateful, but i'm proud to be the one who throws those two words in the trash
Because i'm not afraid to speak my mind
And i welcome everyone here
America is everyone's home.
If only the Soviet Union never invaded Afghanistan
If only the people were not scared
To be free like America.
Unity for all,
Religious differences and Cultures alike.
I hope one day a Muslim man or Woman can walk down an American street without being labeled as a terrorist.
I hope one day these repressive governments fall into the hands of democracy
And we start the Age of Unity again.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
People cheat,
people lie
To get ahead
or
just to get by.
They do it out of deemed necessity
or
have made it a successful habit.
Some would feel bad,
but
some wouldn't lose sleep over it.
Some lie to protect...
Some lie to infect...
With little remorse
or
full blown guilt.
Either way
risking
all they've built.
A lie is an accessory
that most tend to abuse.
A convenient mask
for the ugly truth
that most would misuse.
Lies are...
The bane of relationships
Destroyer of trust...
Conveyed by irresponsible lips.
So have I ever lied?
Have I ever desecrated
honesty's pride?
Have I ever wielded it
to save others from harm?
Have I ever employed it
to boost my charm?
No I haven't,
now that's a lie...
Spouted that so easily,
I didn't even need to try...
Honestly,
YES I HAVE.
**I am no exception...
I am no saint,
I'm only human**...
with an ill sense of direction.
I have lied...
How about you?
Search deep inside...
You know you have too...
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
I'm risking so much
by touching
you.
But when our
lips meet
I don't fear
death anymore.
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 3:34 AM UTC
The sounding alarm starts the frenzy
I hurry myself to shower and dress
Slowing just for a moment
To strategically place fragrant surprises
For later explorations.
Accelerating with all urgency
I weave through the blockade of traffic
Risking it all to preserve
Each second, each minute, every moment of time
For my waiting infatuation
Flushes of excitement consume me
As I near my destination
I am overwhelmed with pulsating urges
As I search for a way to impress you
Show advanced appreciation
Welcomed with a sensual eagerness
Each of us knowing and wanting
I ask "Can I play you a tune?"
A Love song plays to a faintness
As you bring me to satisfaction
Then,
Ascending to kiss me softly
You wish me a good day at work.
Wiping excess from your chin
You smile and say "See you tomorrow."
© Tina Thompson
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:46 PM UTC
They say eyes never lie.
But how can I know,
when yours are always closed?
When you're always blocking out the world?
Never opening up, or risking being exposed?
How can I know,
if truth is what you speak?
when your eyes,
never tell a thing?
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
It is nestled deep inside the fertile
Shenandoah Valley.
There is a river that runs amok
like a rabid, winded wildcat in
the shadows of temptation.
And then there’s a back-country
woman that just won’t leave my
hesitated mind.
Taking time
to worry all about her,
risking heartache
to forever go
without her—
it seems like such an unfair penance,
like the result of prison’s popular
undeserved sentences.
Getting by without a proper windshield,
it’s starting to look as if my drummer
really is too far off the mark.
Wishes to again cross that princess on
that old and dusty road.
In the end it’s a crime that, quite
simply, has no motive.
And I’m paying my sentence daily for
being a prince—and not the most
handsome toad in the land.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Never will I be covered in tattoos
My legs and toes shall forever stay bruised.
I’ll never paint or carry a tune
Forever and ever, I’ll wear a tutu.
I won’t dye my hair pink or blue
My piercings will stay as the simple two
Nails cut short and hair in a bun
In ballet, this must be done.
Pink tights by the mound
Bobby pins all around
Leotards on the floor
Pointe shoes by the door.
Toes taped so tightly
Smiling big and brightly
Red lipstick adding to her beauty
The dancer moves so smoothly.
Turned out from my hips
No words coming from my lips
I dance sweetly to the sound
Ooh ballet, to you, I am bound.
Full of grace, never haste
Filling perfectly my costume of lace
Ever so sweet, my dancing feet
Step after step, I repeat and repeat.
Obtaining perfection is my key
It’s what I strive for, it’s all that defines me
Pushing harder and harder to reach my goal
It’s what I live for, ballet is my soul.
My toes may bleed
And my knees, grow weak
But I’ll never stop dancing…
Not until I reach my peak.
Pirouette, Pirouette
Dancer’s silhouette
Practicing at dusk
Dedication is a must.
Stretching my limbs
Choreographing on a whim
Alway aiming to be stronger
To hold my arabesque longer.
When I do finally reach that triple pirouette
and all is done and all is set
I put myself back into class
Aiming for a fourth, to be better than the last.
This is the life of a dancer en point
Risking the health of her feet, legs and joints
Just for that one perfect moment on stage
Where the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Just give me a reason,
to get my heart beating.
As the world falls apart around us,
all we can do is hold on
and take my hand.
I'd risk everything for you,
reaching into the denial,
risking loosing my mind.
Just reach for my hand.
You might call me crazy,
but I'd stand on the edge,
till there's nothing left,
waiting for the end.
Say another word,
because I doubt I could hear you,
with the silence between us.
Just reach for my hand.
I'd do anything for you,
while asking "why are you such trouble?"
From our first kiss,
your eyes held wide...
(why were they open?)
Just give me a reason,
to get my heart beating.
As the world falls apart around us,
all we can do is hold on
and take my hand.
Just reach for me.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Awaiting the storm
Forming on distant shores.
Preparing myself for
The oceans tidal swell.
Opening my heart
To the rawest of elements.
I ride the anticipation
Of the coming waves.
Conquering the building
Fear as the water leaps high.
A great solid wall
Unfurling its rippling energy.
Through the tube,
Board skimming, skipping.
Flirting with danger,
Risking everything,
Inside a living
Hollow cocoon of
Thundering power.
Controlled fear beats
Inside my pumping heart,
Driving my adrenaline
Through to spiritual fulfilment.
On exiting the beast,
It rolls onward to its death.
Through its existence
We both lived, sharing
A unique oneness.
Children of nature within
A union of creation, so special,
It takes the breath away.
Savouring my exhilaration,
I see another wave being born,
And prepare to surf again.
©Paul M Chafer 2014
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
Isolated from reality
Nothings what it seems
Roaming the world asleep
You take refuge in your dreams
You go with the flow
The current pulls you along
Drowning out your conscience
Its neither right nor wrong
Influenced by your surroundings
Unaware your slowly drowning
Gasping for air
Grasping at what's not there
Submerged in shallow water
Struggling to breathe
Finding your self at last
You realize you've been deceived
Instinct kicks in
You begin to swim
Risking it all
Listening to your wake up call
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 8:40 PM UTC
Less than a month
I'll be 18 years old
Maybe I'll be able to grasp
The escape rope of life
Stop breast feeding on the ******* of my parents wealth
Drink the sweet vitamin enrich milk of freedom
No longer the outcast of school hallways
***** looks of freshman
As they all say they want to **** me
Knowing all to well I'm not risking life in jail
Can you believe it
I'm almost 18
Nothings changed
I've been 23 since my parents forced me to be the mature one
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
We were both gamblers,
And darling, we were all in.
Knowing there was a possibility
Of holes left in our hearts
being unable to mend.
I know life always has a way of leaving us broken, but darling, for tonight, let's pretend.
Risking the chance we could be left with nothing, we put in all we had.
But in the end, even though we lost everything, life didn't seem so bad.
We knew what we were getting ourselves into.
All or nothing
It just so happens that this time,
Life chose nothing.
But we still somehow believed that we had gained from something.
We had discovered sides of ourselves that the other brought to light,
And they were worth knowing, even though now, we are simply a lost dream in the night.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
Do you ever write something
So good
That you feel like you've peaked
As a writer?
And everything from then on
Is a question in your head?
Maybe you should never
Pick up a pencil again
Because your writing career
Has already been wrapped up
Tightly with a bow
Maybe you planned to be a poet
Get a proper creative writing degree
And forever make a living
Off the rhythm of words
But every idea now
Seems like a steaming pile of ****
Compared to your last masterpiece
So it just sits
Rotting in your brain
Until you stink
With a lack of genuine creativity
Maybe you've written so much
That your rhymes
Begin to sound tired
And overused
But if you don't rhyme
It sounds as if you've gotten lazy
So no matter what you put down
The effort doesn't show
Maybe writing about the ordinary
Seems boring
But writing the extraordinary
Has already been done
And every option in between
Seems like a cheap plagiarism
Maybe your standards got too high
And people expect more from you
So every ounce of energy you have
Is wasted on doubting yourself
Until you're too exhausted
To write at all
Maybe you dreamt too big
Maybe quitting while you're ahead
Sounds better than actually trying
Maybe the emptiness you feel
When you don't write
Is worth not risking failure
Maybe saying goodbye
To your dreams now
Will be easier
Than a downward spiral
From the inability
To write something better than before
Or maybe
You're just overthinking it.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
.
*asks the one in the $9 Craigslist chair,
legs crossed like a philosopher
mid-way through a YouTube binge
on dark matter
and dopamine fasting.*
He thinks it’s profound.
It’s not.
It’s a shrug in a trench coat.
A crisis dressed up in code.
An old fear wearing digital cologne.
If this is a simulation—
***what the **** are we simulating?***
Heartbreak?
Minimum wage despair?
The number of times I check my phone
hoping it’s her?
Is it
a stress test for gods,
a beta for consciousness,
a joke?
Because if someone coded this—
they should be fired.
Or worshipped.
Or sued.
Where’s the patch notes,
the exit key,
the server room in the sky?
Where’s the moment it glitches
and someone finally says,
“Oops, our bad—
you weren’t meant to feel
all of that.”
You talk about the veil of illusion
but you still cry in parking lots.
You still ghost your therapist.
You still love people
who don’t text back.
You bleed,
you ache,
you spiral—
whether you’re made of atoms
*or ******* pixels.*
Your god wears headphones.
Your sacred text is a Stack Overflow thread.
Your heaven is a loading screen.
Your hell is just
Monday.
You pray in 1080p
to a silent DevOps deity
who hasn’t pushed an update
since the Bronze Age.
This isn’t philosophy.
It’s cosplay for cowards.
It’s a way to sound deep
without touching dirt.
Without risking faith.
Without changing anything.
Because if it’s a sim,
you don’t have to care.
If it’s a sim,
you don’t have to try.
You can just sit there,
scrolling.
Wondering if the fire
is ray-traced.
But here, the only questions that matter:
Does it hurt?
Do you love?
Can you lose?
Because if the answer is yes—
you’re in it.
Whatever it is.
Simulation or not.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
I know what I know,
and I don't know what I don't know.
Let all who know tell me about
what I don't know.
Check your self and let me know
what you want from me.
The whole world is not really
good or bad place.
It is a mystery that you cannot fathom.
To play your own game and win
must be your priority.
Life is about risking and sharing the
gifts, talents and abilities you were
endowed with and finding your place
in the scheme of things, and
to leave your signature and
fingerprints in the canvas of life.
It is about opening up with love,
kindness and compassion and
be generous in nature.
To lavishly share your life and
contribute in abundance the blessings
you were gifted with.
It is about transforming yourself
into an exulted being you were created to be.
To find the balance that centers you.
It's about daily discovery of
your innate dormant natural
endowments and how to safely
use it to your advantage and the benefits of mankind.
It is about opening up like the rose flower,
sharing your fragrance.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
Rolling dawn to dusk across the starry length,
Spiraling circles amidst blazing orbs.
Held no memories of my stellar birth,
Nor tell vast upheavals of mighty epics.
Early shedding of original flames,
A layer of hydrogen was burned away.
Convulsions, diarrhea shrouds my youth,
A steamy cloak caresses my tender skin.
Around four billion laps before this day,
Life awakened in my ancient depths.
Poison polluted my outer coat, aye,
As oxygen poured from primal bugs.
Cycles of warmth and ice marks my crotch,
Evolving life, risking death, must adapt.
Such poor creatures persist beneath my watch,
I shelter them from the frigid void.
Toward the day of the dull red giant,
Even I am facing the gates of malicious wrath.
All shall perish under their final monument,
From youth, to strength, then wisdom, onto death.
Sadly, star dust tells no tales.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 5:19 PM UTC
Free falling through eyes wide open
As the wind of alive fills the room of life
A piano nearby listens
Dreaming in the key of flesh
All the silence in the world moves here
The heart of risking nothing and everything at once lifts time
Fear cannot ever fly this high to see you in the other without guise
Fright has too many masks and no way to remove them
Nude-time is gravity’s secret gift to those who only dance with true abandon
Beings unafraid of fiery tears laughing and wanderlust exposed
No other way home
Every moment is dying
On lips that live within words and the whispers of thoughts stir
Everything said and heard contains the death of afraid now
Every soul step closer is leaving all clocks behind
The first kiss can wait forever
For it has already caressed complete naked honesty
We shiver
Choosing
To never harm how all love is sacred
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Ever had the feeling of being trapped in a glass box
with the air slowly running out, with every breath?
In sun, rain, snow and storm, the box gets dark or warm
but what you can do always remains the same.
Have you just simply wanted to walk away or break free?
To travel the world taming Lion cubs and petting great white sharks?
To wake up to a sunrise in a Dutch farm and watch it set over the Mediterranean sea?
To teach children in Thailand or India?
To salsa on the streets of Mexico or be blinded by the lights in Dubai?
Have you ever wanted to be border-less?
To not be punished for being born in a country
where the sun is hot and people are poor?
Have you ever just wanted to work, get a place, pay taxes,
and not ignore the growling of your stomach
so your 5 pound takeaway stretches over 3 days
postponing the date to buy the next food stock?
Have you ever wanted to check your bank account
without having your fingers crossed, because
even though you know the exact balance
you hope by some miracle it will be more?
Have you prayed for immigration to back the hell off
leaving you to make a living without risking deportation?
Have you ever got tired of playing by the rules when
the Albanian Mafia and Walmart
makes more money per hour than what you'd make in a lifetime, or two?
With heart aches and emotional games, and
attending Sunday mass becoming more of a cliché,
with rejection and doors closed,
at the cost of owning a brown passport,
with your head spinning and back against the wall,
have you wondered what life wants from you at all?
To all the women being trafficked for ***
and the children slaving away spinning Persian carpets,
tonight it's too cold to snow outside my glass box.
Inside, it's too sad to cry...
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast
Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire
We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness
Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness
Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars
Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges
Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses
Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak
Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast
By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon: the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation
Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
Here thinking
Is it worth it
All that hard work
Trying to get his attencion
Risking my education
Trying to be there for him
While he doesnt realize I am there.
Is it all part of destiny
Or is it a part of life
Is it all what I have done
It is all because of my mistakes
I am here
Wondering if he ever thinks of me
Hoping that he loves me to
Wishing he could look
At my smile and fall for me
Just like I fell for him
I love him,
wishings he loved me
Yet in English clas
He does not even turn my way
I wish he could know
But I am not scared to say anything
I wish he could understand
That I am falling in love every second
Even more
I need him to see
I need him to know
That every second
I think of what could be
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
I find it scary
to love someone like this.
You give everything you have
your love, time & attention.
Hoping that
they will do & feel
the same way
like you do.
Missing them every single time,
making sure that they're happy &
remain contented with you,
& your love.
Doing everything that you could
to make sure that
they wouldn't leave you,
alone.
At the same time,
giving them
space & freedom
that they want & deserve.
To make sure
they won't
feel locked, stuck & chained
with you.
Loving someone
so deeply, pure, sincere
& innocent
is not an easy task.
This might sound
narcissistic,
but
I admire
myself & those
who has done it?
It is scary, yes.
No assurances
that all of it wouldn't be wasted.
Maybe that's the beauty of love
Making smart & logical people;
dumb, fearless & illogical.
Driving human beings,
insane &
risking it all,
for the name of
love.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC
She is my light
in every pitch black evening.
Her light cuts through every angle
brightening up
each part of me.
She is my only guide
the star I follow
to a final destination
of home, of happiness
of eternal warmth and security.
She is my inspiration.
The reason I wake up everyday
with purpose, with intent
of becoming a better me.
The reason, I go to sleep
with a smile.
For every slumber,
comes another morning
which means a day closer to her.
She is my stargirl. :)
She is loved.
She is yearned for.
She is worth waiting
and risking for.
Yours and only yours, Anne.
Your Mims
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC