Lover of the arts with a fondest for gothic and cozy literature.
Darkness; a young heart blooms. Curled fingers twitch as palms press against a shell. Light bleeds into fresh eyes. Vigor courses through dormant bones as the crisp autumn air fills unused lungs.
By Bre Valentine2 months ago in Horror
Come with me, my peculiar friend, To a place I never thought I’d see again. I traverse these grounds often in the land of dreams,
By Bre Valentine2 months ago in Poets
