gosh mom I don’t work out to be “cute” and “petite” I work out to have legs that are strong enough to crush the souls of 10,000 men
that´s the spirit
In the pale light of the new moon, honeysuckle blossoms hang like tiny ghosts. And you, restless, glide across the grass, barefoot, diaphanous, haunted by the heady fragrance.
Sleepless and drunk on heavy air, I watch from the window as you dance among the dead.