I'm here now. The pleasures of the flesh beckon, heat, soft skin, passion. But as with most things the feeling is but an acute symptom of a chronic desire. Lust without friendship is transient. Passion without commonality is solitude. Why does this cowboy lust after goth chicks? Does the beauty and markings without conseal depth within? I'll find out, I'm here now.
ginary:
thank you for the tip, I loved your comment, very helpful! 