There's a harsh beauty in her her fairer sister can never hope to possess. It can't be replicated only worn in over time like a fine patina Stews of rich red wine with musky herbs of depth and desire added slowly over time A beauty that creeps on you like a dreich November fog Settling the silence of a soft Sunday lie in. Tea, toast and icy cuddles
(image by dark777fairy)
Accidental Poet 