I love this dark and brightness. The air freezes on the skin, smokes in speaking. The snow glazes like white steel underfoot. I can smell pine needles and blood oranges; I will light a fire before midnight. Hold on to the sun.
Links
Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: So Krishna stole the butter, did he?
- 2: When I invited Frank and you back to mine for a mange tout when I meant ménage à trois
- 3: The shadows on the walls don't recognize me anymore
- 4: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 5: This po-mo stuff is nice, but it's irrelevant to the way I feel right now
- 6: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
Style Credit
- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zvi and
Expand Cut Tags
No cut tags