Untitled

She’d lost things before. Found some, too.

This was different. The proof of it lay in her soul’s ache.

If only she knew a way to tell what she believed. What she knew to be True.

If she could just paint it. make it. write it. sing it. play it.

But her heart had no other language. All it knew was Love.
and him.

Untitled

routinemagic

Joined November 2007

  • Artwork Comments 8

Artwork Comments

  • PintaPinta
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  • routinemagic
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