I had a thought today:
As a hopeless romantic, when I die it will be much like the way I came into this world.
At night.
Alone.
All due to a series of unfortunate events, stemming from a womans love.
And it's alright.
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
2 comments:
Not a bad way either...says the other hopeless romantic...
Hopeless Romantics FTW~!~
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