music, bike riding, poetry, art, life in general.
Are what we are made of.
Bonding each one of us in love.
No creation comes from above.
Relations built on communication
Attraction of skin to skin.
Beginning with one kiss
Ever bone in one’s body can’t be taught to miss.
Aching to hold.
Waiting to grow old.
Grown from one tiny seed.
Hoping that what comes will be like the trees
Of the great redwood forest.
Falling asleep, yet my mind keeps wandering the streets, in search of… huh I’m not really sure, all I need I’ve found, yet there is a black shroud hanging overhead. My feet become sore. Reaching out my hands. I want to touch you one last time. To steal you away from this un intended malpractice starvation. Did I mention, my heads are over my heels.