a message for you.
please excuse my dust as this blog site is still under construction.
love is the softness of an argument in another town, i walk the early morning streets before returning to the hotel, asking how this softness i feel holds such power, so much power i’ve returned, how is that possible? & she has no answer, only that it holds power over her also & the softness of that admission, is the answer to your question. 
the only reason i'm writing this is to get you off my chest, your butterfly touch must have lost interest.Labels: butterfly touch, morning streets.
