S A N G U I N E O U S
There were flowers in her hair and ice in her veins. The frailty and delicacy, her pretty pink lips and rosy cheeks, all a façade. Her ribs, a steel cage, bound tightly her wild heart that seeped darkness, the blood that would pour from her fingertips pricked by thorns, reeked of cloying sweetness. The apple of her mother’s eyes, always ripe for the picking, high hanging fruit filled with temptation. Her beauty was her curse, her naivety her downfall. With thunderous hooves and the splitting...
the unwelcome guest
Good morning/afternoon dear friend! "For who is God, except the LORD? And who is a ROCK, except our GOD? It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; And sets me on my high places. He teaches my hands to make war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze." Ps. 18:31-34 I pray God's richest blessings upon you. Love and hugs. Noni. xoxo