A language yet to be written.

There are parts of you that cannot be held by poems or paintings or songs, but I hold them in my desolated heart. I am that naïve damsel with sad songs in her fingerprints and smoky sunset in her eyes.…
There are parts of you that cannot be held by poems or paintings or songs, but I hold them in my desolated heart. I am that naïve damsel with sad songs in her fingerprints and smoky sunset in her eyes.…