I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks while you loved me.
He finished his drink. 'I don’t like mornings either,' he said. “That’s why I’m a writer.
I was born when he kissed me, I died when he left me, I lived a few weeks while he loved me
He scraped through the dark sand to the center house, two stories, both pouring bands of light into the fog. There was warmth and gaiety within, through the downstairs window he could see young people gathered around a piano, their singing mocking th...
