"I could a tale unfold,that would harrow up thy soul,freeze thy blood,and make each hair stand on end,like the quills of the Porpentine-so,Why yield to a suggestion whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,and make my heart knock at my ribs?"
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
I dream of you
In the stillness of the night
Your arms are the wind
Holding me tight
Calling my name
It's your voice I hear, again and again
My heart is full, yet so empty too
Because the one thing I want and can not have is...