Skip to main content
Like
Create new Glog
previous
next
Email share
26 views | 0 likes | 0 reposts
Trust me though, the words will soon arrive, and when they do, you will hold them in your hands, like the clouds, and wring them out, like the rain.
When he spoke it was the taste of a whisper...
The colours... The smell of friendship...A girl made of darkness... Some dead letters... A promise keeper... A sleeper... The swapping of nightmares... Death's diary... A newspaper sky... The bitter taste of questions... Way of the words... Confessions and burning snowflakes... A sky stealer... Some wooden tears... A final kiss on poisoned cheeks
