bluebloodblues
The cold is creeping in like the most beautiful of ghosts. I imagine her with crystal hair, dresses of gauze, and the voice of an icebird. A kiss from her frosted lips delights the mind like a river in the mountains, springing with words in your frozen delirium. You want to dance but you realize you can no longer feel your feet.
I became a sailor in a papership on streams of blue and lavender. Someday a harbor will arise on the horizon and then, I’ll stay.
