The unforgivable crime is soft hitting. Do not hit at all if it can be avoided; but never hit softly. ~Theodore Roosevelt
Of course.. how else were you to find me?
It is a crime, or so he whispered..
That delicately cross, unwavering, unnerving little voice of substance.. in which plagues me; by the bated breath..
It is a moment of peace, stolen in valiant acquiescence.
A frustration, for which the circling monotony grappled with a naive sense of.. bewilderment?
But, to what do I owe the honor of such a malicious infestation of sunshine and tolerance?
To whom, Dear, shall I present such a fallacy of rosy cheeks and glinting callousness; masqueraded? Basked in chartreuse glory?
Shall I; even? What say you?