teardrops_on_this_note Death of a Rose thinking of the times we held hands in the dark, a gentle warm breeze shifting your dress and hair, in one instant giving you allure, in another a serious nature. those soft touches from your fingertips upon my chin, draggin me closer into the moment of eternity. facing the half covered moon, you always smelled like jasmine and red wine, giving all my effort to your stares, in each eye in was a time of promise. 050930 what's it to you? who go blather from