Post | Login | Join    

Fall :: scott :: 0
    TAGS:
    STASHED BY: 'mouse  



Whenever the leaves start to paint themselves for flying away I am always wistful, remembering that fall in the garden, the tree from which we ate that fruit, the new truths I learned looking deep into your eyes, the way it all ended so suddenly and angrily when we were caught, that look of guilty shame on your lovely, downcast face that always send howls echoing through my wicked, wakened soul.

September 3, 2008 at 7:50 AM ::

Name:

Email:

Location:

URL:

Remember my personal information     (Non-member comments will be held for moderation.)

Notify me of follow-up comments?

Submit the word you see below: