Staring at the ceiling fan running in dizzying circles, wrapped in a plaid bedsheet lying naked next to a stranger, huffing out pools of smoke from the cigar pinched between her fingers, there she lies. Recalling a memory, more of blur, she turns to her side. When you say you love me, I hear you. When you tell me about your dreams, sipping your favorite red wine, I hear yo.

This post does not represent actual events. 8220;It was about a land. 8220;That sound fantastic! 8221; exclaimed the child. 8220;Then why do you look so confused? 8220;Were they evil? August 14, 2015.

Autumn is a world set on fire. It is the taste of cinnamon and coffee. It is the feeling of your arms wrapped around my waste. It is the feeling of soft sweater sleeves hanging past your fingers. Autumn is a fresh baked pumpkin pie. It is snickerdoodles paired with milk and honey. Poetry, creative writing, my writing. Not only do most of these characters have flaws, but most of them .

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Imagine with all your mind, Believe with all your heart and Create with all your beauty. Her writing is just amazing. Okay so, I actual.