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My Artform: Finshed In the moments of your company, everything seems to slow and roll like the oceans current. The sun was rising, and it dawned on me with the coming light. If i could have this at everydays end. Id set, this, concrete. To die waiting for this is right, because love is life. Anything else a pale imatation, translusant for the most part. Love is anything, but weightless. It takes form, the posture not always right. But it is love. What else is there? And to that question, theres every wrong answer.
Liked your words a lot. In
Liked your words a lot. In fact I've read a few of your poems lately that I wanted to comment on but unfortunately, a spammer had left a comment that messed up my ability to use the comment button. Anyways, I like your work. I'm sure I've told you that before. It's nice to read you again.
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