Dear stranger,
I see mischief beaming in that smile, as you sit bent over a piece of writing, your face, framed by big curls.
If we met, would the persons beneath our skins embrace each other like our words already do?
Love,
P
P.S. Confession. I just google-stalked you.
I see mischief beaming in that smile, as you sit bent over a piece of writing, your face, framed by big curls.
If we met, would the persons beneath our skins embrace each other like our words already do?
Love,
P
P.S. Confession. I just google-stalked you.
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