Under a different sun, our love would not be a fantasy written in ink and spilled on pages of a book.
Under a different sun, our love would be kisses under the stars and sweating bodies between messy sheets.
Under a different sun, our love would not be a fantasy written in ink and spilled on pages of a book.
Under a different sun, our love would be kisses under the stars and sweating bodies between messy sheets.
reflections of an unquiet mind 