November 09, 2009 10:11pm she moves her feet through grains of sand, and I ask myself what it is to be untamed? Seen soul, seen the tangle of golden curls.. seen the motion of skin and the arms of contempt. Her hands hold my curiousity like the smoldering ember of cigarettes; in my dreams we are tigers.. born to bewilderment, enchanted by our own beautiful thoughts.
