Saturday nights.
And Sunday mornings.
And the pains of being grown.
And the pains of soreness.
And the pains of bad backs.
And asian cinema.
And Chow's wardrobe.
And sexy, stylish, womens attire.
And a return from a long/short excursion.
And the demise of toughies.
And to walking away before the gate is locked.
To what never was but will always be.
And if you don't get it, then shut up.
And by shut up I mean I love you.
Love,
Filthy.
No comments:
Post a Comment