She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind.

I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul, and I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been keeping me whole.

And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices... life.

They say she is too much to handle, but when the moon pulls the tide and the wolves howl her name, blessed are the ones who have been taken by her wild.