Untitled (treading along the grasses of reverie)

Her kiss tastes like every dark thought I’d ever had, vanta black bewilderment as berries within silverness of meadows burst with indignation. The sky flows immortal, soft clattering of clouds where peace once shimmered, what; oh what eats away, sighing, stretching still along the banks of a temple that’s thrown… Read more“Untitled (treading along the grasses of reverie)”