The ice slates are perilous, the icicles keen, chilling blasts of snow now cloud the scene, the woeful world robbed of all things green, speaking in whispers, what did she mean?
Category: Pain
ImPerfect Love | The Tears of St. Peter by El Greco | Ekphrasis Series
When you kill the very thing you love, Often, there is a price to pay - Endless heartaches, sleepless nights, No words to utter when you pray
Sweet Poison | Poetry
Sweet is your poison, deadly are your gifts - Killing me slowly and prolonging my throes.
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