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Paint your fingers with ink, I want your visible prints, everywhere. Keep making my heart sink, I won't let these butterflies come out for air. I want to feel your every movement, and see this through, with no turning back, with no rewind. I want to smell like nothing but your sweet scent,...
Just finished a story. Here is an excerpt: "Little metallic scrapes and clicks cause me to keep a constant eye over my shoulder the entire two-mile walk. By the time I get to the square the air smells cold and the LED streetlights fire up. This place still teems with its plague of schizophrenic...

on Story Finished