Post by diana crawford on Dec 13, 2009 23:43:30 GMT -5
Air twitched, wrecked salient mess, over the hair in blunt sleek, tear drops of her face. She needed a place to recover. One thing was important to relieve the pain she was feeling. She wanted love. Love over loss. Loss of love? Dear god. That pill she took was blinding her to her end of days. She staggered up a small slant in the grass. And felt the wind take her. It laced over her weaty flesh, as her eyes elapsed into a calm state of darkness, as they were blanketed by her moist lids. parting her mouth she tasted her air that she marked dilutedly of it being in her prescence. The air had turned to filth at another one's sight, of her shapely figure, swaying in one spot on the slant.
For her. It was a dream. Pure lust and passion plummeted up and down her spine as a white, loose but beautiful dress swung around her tighs, hem loose with ruffled stitching and toiled fabric. Exhilerated gasps for air as another electrical surge pulsed through her mind. Music flooded her ears, and she began to dance to the rhythm that whispered names of dirt in her ear. She played with the music for the long lasting hours of the night. It was just her, and her.
For her. It was a dream. Pure lust and passion plummeted up and down her spine as a white, loose but beautiful dress swung around her tighs, hem loose with ruffled stitching and toiled fabric. Exhilerated gasps for air as another electrical surge pulsed through her mind. Music flooded her ears, and she began to dance to the rhythm that whispered names of dirt in her ear. She played with the music for the long lasting hours of the night. It was just her, and her.