The radio waxes romantic.
Its lullabies fill our eyes with tears.
We don’t say a word.
There’s nothing to say that hasn’t been heard.
The radio waxes romantic.
Its lullabies fill our eyes with tears.
We don’t say a word.
There’s nothing to say that hasn’t been heard.
I don’t know about you, sometimes there’s just something so freeing about letting all the tears out. I love a good cry.
The book I’m currently reading is a bit strange. Well, no, a lot strange. I guess I’ll write about it next month when I finally