Letting Life Lead
I think I should perish shackled in matrimony these seven years.
Upon my bed, your musk clings in the sheet folds and pillow dents. Your caresses linger in creases where polite tongues daren’t tread. Oh, fortune that propriety is not your forte.
Come tonight? My balcony waits.
The place where all the things I write live
Writer and procrastinator
Warden of Words // Shaper of Stories
Bewitching Journey of Words to Meaning
This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.
The 24 hours Writing Hotspot and Hang Out
Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV
Every now and then my head is racing with thoughts so I put pen to paper
Vulnerable on main