love is not possessive or selfish. love is the river that flows underground so serenely you forget its presence, until the nights you lose yourself in restless sleep, and it slips into your room, a familiar stranger, one cool hand taking yours, leading your dreams out of shadow towards moonlight.
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About Me:
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good.