SvengoolieNewmar1

We all have room. Room for shiny, pearl-footed memories to creep in, and cling to our skulls like skin. These memories have room for us to chuckle or cry or level their thrones with our peasant bones. They pluck our feelings like gems, and trap them inside faded crowns.

SvengoolieNewmar1

We all have room. Room for shiny, pearl-footed memories to creep in, and cling to our skulls like skin. These memories have room for us to chuckle or cry or level their thrones with our peasant bones. They pluck our feelings like gems, and trap them inside faded crowns.