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It’s like she shits sprinkles and consumes rainbows for sustenance. I’m not sure what kind of fairy tale forest she was raised in, but no one can be this optimistic about everything.
He was always obsessed since he immigrated here from Ireland with nothing but a single suitcase and a dream to draw.
She’s divine with enough wickedness to make a sinner like me want to pray in devotion.
“You don’t want me to help you with that problem?” “Take a man out to dinner first.” “Does my pussy count?” “Fuck.”
My fist itches to familiarize itself with his face.
He’s my dark storm cloud in the middle of a drought—an underappreciated beauty that makes me feel equally alive as the sun or the stars.
