A cup of chai cools in my hands. A breeze gathers in the distance, unsettling tranquil waters. Though I am a hard woman with a barbed tongue, I'm still sentimental and prone to the welling of emotion. And breezes, especially those rising from beyond the Taj Mahal, can make tears bloom within me. For breezes remind me of kisses.
And kisses can be eternal.
View User's Journal
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
