leckdamian

I feel the beat in her chest, unless, it's mine. If so, it's time, I go, we cry. Later we smile, we tear, we're alive. We can't get enough, of these, good times. I guess you could say we're exuberaphiles. I know that's not a word but who am I, to say what's not and what is. I look at the clock, my drink, its fizz. I say the word, love and we kiss. I never forget these nights.

Holy crap this thing comes with a JOURNAL too?...sweet...i'll post some poems and other such things on here then.