the evening stroll of dreamsicle & wet chalk become more interesting with her. she clings to me in the fear that she'll slip into the shadows — like the wind in the trees as soft as moth wings — in my bones like ketamine.
t h i r t e e n
the evening stroll of dreamsicle & wet chalk become more interesting with her. she clings to me in the fear that she'll slip into the shadows — like the wind in the trees as soft as moth wings — in my bones like ketamine.