The Paper Fill me, cried the page. Write on me your dreams. Scatter your loves like autumn leaves. An inked and penciled pattern, let your pen whisper secrets to me. I'll not tell them, ever. So fill me with words. I exist only for this.
The Paper Fill me, cried the page. Write on me your dreams. Scatter your loves like autumn leaves. An inked and penciled pattern, let your pen whisper secrets to me. I'll not tell them, ever. So fill me with words. I exist only for this.
