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| Topic: Bliss | |
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Edited by
AZKait
on
Sun 11/16/14 07:09 PM
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The cold carves at my face like a scythe to a field of wheat.
The watery gales wrap and wound like punishing, angry whip tails. I am drenched in despair, with this damned, desperate duel. I gasp, tumbling to my knees, numbing to the ache of sweet surrender. My scarlet sanguinity. Ready to mingle with the briny sands. Resistance, ready to oblige as gently and softly on the wind... As a babys first innocent breath. |
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