She does to me what winter does to the trees; she strips me bare, naked and empty.
I laugh to myself, because…I can’t sing, it’s just she makes me want to try and harmonise.
Like, I’ve got no worries bothering me tomorrow…like, I’ve got no dirty clothes hamper full of yesterday’s, stinking up what future is left in me.
But, I really ain’t no saint.
Never felt love’s true bliss. A disciple of my father, I learned to love with clenched fists.
I learned to love like...