But death is a winter whore.
A Remembrance
But death is a winter whore.
Listen to the tickling sound of phucks given~
But death is a winter whore.
Those sharp little fangs bit down and drew blood and he knew it was a metaphor. Fast friends, they had met on New Year’s Eve and she was in his life for 175 days. Some days he had felt so close to her that his wings melted and felt his monstrous heart plummet from the … Continue reading Unravel – the Metaphor