imaginary lives
or
the one that isn't mine
what is the secret
what is it like?

most would think, this
a complete waste of time
lucky you then,
those who haven't thoroughly
and completely lost their mind

from being so sick,
so tired, being you
as in me, all i see
through this prism of psyche, bleed
the greatest day and joy
of my life, will be the day I'm
gone, as in "over", released

so come on, tell me
cuz I'd really like to know..
a life beyond the bedroom, hollow
easy cum and sleazy go
quick to fall to my knees
and blow
oh wait, holy shit...
that was like, twelve lifetimes ago..

sorry, the time, it escapes me,
a blur
why I'm still here,
don't ask me, not sure..

i can't "get a grip",
i can't gain a grasp
on what exactly my purpose,
my "good"
as in "good for", so i wander
feeling, thinking i should..

be more "this",
be more "that"..
just can't seem to find my place
where it's at..

i have a talent for torment
and tears..
and look where it's got me,
living trapped, lost in fears...

of aging, war waging
and "do you hate me yet?", engaging
prone to emotions,
intense on scale
somewhere between "love me"
and "fuck it all", cross so nailed..

to my back, sewn, self-imposed
the reasons why, really
nobody knows..
least of all me,
this hunger to be skyward
and free...

just always been a "creepy crawly"
thing, woke up one day,
realizing i was me...

a geek, a freak
a fag, a lag..
behind the boys
and girls too..

in the bushes i learned
i was at least, kinda good for a screw
and that bent me up..
cuz "what did that position, from behind
have anything to do with finding love?"

it didn't, me idiot
but i kept on going..
same direction, downward,
the spiral
perfecting my "good boy"
prince of bending and blowing..

so now that's all dead
and buried, for years..

and i wonder what it's like
to get together with a gang
and have a few beers..

to be the life of the party,
quite charming
to have the kind of charisma
so captivating, confident, disarming..

to be so handsome
i could have anyone, anything
i want
i will never know these things,
so let me put it straight, and blunt

when you live inside
your own skin, mind forever
it's like a prison you long to escape
but can't, ever

except for the magic,
fucking miracle
called love
yet even that, like starvation
is never quite the enough,
for enough...

to bare the weight of
always attempting
to be human here
as in better, stronger, noble
of character
when nothing will ever
justify my merit, worth..

so "fuck it", faster
and forget me, quick
lay me down, lay it on,
good and thick

imaginary lives,
imagining what it's like to be you
that's so much better,
so much more fascinating, true

and with that, I'll get back to it
so thanks for listening
and hooray, now
I'm through...


bowen hart roselli
4 september 2020
ringwald love

make me a candle
that burns, in remarkable,
your beautiful name

make me the wick,
strong stock, unwavering
or make me the flame
golden fire, succulent, savoring

every split second,
every moment, like sacred
that it heals and touches, with hope
nothing impossible,
in the nectar, so naked

with hues of heart
and tenderness, joy
no worries, no fears
whether the limbs belong
to a girl or a boy

just human emotion
filled, pure light, devotion
rarely experienced, rarely ignited
as your candle i would be
something to believe in,
take comfort and flight in

no flounder, no past,
just release, relief at last..
from all the things
that prey on your mind,
the wounds you won't admit
that cause a shift, a stray,
silent kind

just peace, in the inner
and star glow, in external
memories that don't serve your worth,
cast out, like photographs
tossed here to ash,
regions, rightful, infernal

a lifeline of light,
may that be me,
for you
a candle or otherwise
yes, you are my dream come true

through the dark wood I've walked
and found myself lost
and though marked by it,
far from it, perfect
i somehow found my way
to sun's soft

glow that gave me
a feeling, real strength
and taught me,
for a fellow fighter, human
to go the real distance,
to go any length...

to recognize, the rare
gorgeous heat, heart of you
beaming down,
soaked, surrounded
real warmth, bursting through

all the things you do, don't say
all your duality,
delicate meets daring ways

all your fear, equally fearless,
the same
all your "uncompromising",
yet easily "took", by some, led
therefore tamed...

in ways you may
look back and regret
let me not be one of them
you, simply too resplendent
to ever betray, let alone forget

as capture is to captivate
and "belong to" is a divine gift, state

the candle i would be for you
would not dim, like the
"found you" in fate

it's a second, a heartbeat
i could never have foreseen or known
and though worlds apart now
with, and in me, you will always
have a home...

because the lessons
you've taught
and the truth you've shown
cannot be overstated
underestimated,
all the things unknown

that i never knew
until i laid my heart,
eyes upon you

may sound stupid,
may sound trite,
but for me, it's the truth
good to know when I'm wrong,
even better, when I'm right

so say, or don't
and think and feel
what you will
but the candle,
i am, would become for you

it, a life of it's own
nothing time, or distance
or removal can kill

as it's lit in good
and burns with love

because i never knew
in full spectrum of light
in the darkness, smiled a star
just one, tiny, from above

and it led me to you
and for that,
i shine more brightly
in your illuminance, within me

and amongst.


bowen hart roselli
7 september 2020
ringwald love 

how much does matter
matter anymore?
it doesn't seem like it matters much
or maybe it matters
too much to me, i am such...

a serious fuck
too often at the cul-de-sac
"shit outta luck"

a dead end, i thought
could've been a road, a new begin
a fool of heart and hope, my sin

it matters if it matters to you
what you see and feel, go through
the ones i love, the very few
to various degrees, in varying hues

of color, shape and light reflected
a deeper divine of spirit, soul detected
let's be honest, some, yes,
matter more than most
depends on whom, your heart,
you take in and host

and how many, of course
how much room,
you've got left inside you
land of ever expanding insanity, doom

so much chaos, so much crazy
the ones numb and blind to it,
kind of amazing...
how they can sleep,
get by, "on the fly"
like nothing matters at all
so they don't even try

to make things matter
like manners, human kindness
"must be nice", to live
a perpetual state,
brainless and blinded

cities savaged and ravaged
burned to the ground
looted and left for dead
in the name of "let's protest"

yeah, and how does looting
and lighting shit on fire, really help
it doesn't, but gotta blame
your garbage behavior on everyone else

because it's not about
who anyone, anymore, is inside
if there is one even left,
behind the color of skin,
cover of culture, and eyes

real world problems,
complicated and deep seeded, yes
shit swept under the rug,
that needs proper truth and address

but how, do that
in a world so absorbed in
the pawn and the profit of "me"
and "my cross is
the only one that matters,
all i see"....

cuz it's a lie to say
there is that "melting pot,
great american", that used to be
what we ascribed to, what we believed

it's my culture versus your culture
and let's play
"who's the new villain, vulture"
expect everyone to bend
and take it in the ass
to make it easier for you
to feel catered to, get a pass...

there is shit stain on, amongst
every culture, every color, every race
and a blank look of "dead inside"
across too many a pair of eyes
with a permanently glued
phone on their face

people that have no concept
anyone else exists, but them
it's all around us, a disease
infectious, noxious, so then...

when does it matter?
beyond "far too left and far too right"
no nestling of nuance
whose got the attention span,
whose got the time?

its "out for me"
and "only me, mine"
that's called the modern age,
"human condition"
and it's begins and ends
with that thing we're all supposed
to have, called "an inside"...

things like character, consideration
they have died
empathy, compassion
killed, left slaughtered by their side

its exhaustion and overload
using each other as excuses
and entertainment
as punching bags and
poster childs,
"this diagnosis, let's glorify
and blame it"...

and gotta create more labels,
"look at me"
glom on, hold tight
desperate,
"so special, without them,
no identity, me"

cuz really, all that matters
is not a hell of a lot
of anything, anyone, to many..

except maybe who they're fucking,
their family and two, three real friends,
away from social media, yeah right
that means best guess one, if any

this, just the way it is,
It's called "here"
as in life, amongst
the very few ever truly know you,
care if you live, die or exist

so if that matters,
cherish whatever,
whomever, that matters

because it matters only,
if it matters to you
and maybe, like a miracle
you will find someone else

that shit actually matters,
from the "human on the inside",
rare state of being
mindful, loving, passionate, soul
sensitive to the "give means receiving"

and that matters
because without one
there could never exist

the beautiful bond, then,
of two


bowen hart roselli
6 september 2020
ringwald love 

nothing good
nothing bad
flat line friendships
no passion, depth of any kind
to be found or had

they exist
because they can, and do
like the grass is green
and the sky is blue

no deep thought needed
merely an ultra-occasional
scan of the "phone brain"
repeated..

every rare so often
a "hey friend, how's it goin'?"
text, supposed to make you feel
like the winds of a windfall,
lottery win, towards you are blowin'

little soul value placed
little to nothing
beyond the surface,
scratched, traced

back to nothing
but maybe bored outta mind
cuz "outta sight"
your supposed to feel
take the tossed off sentiment
as the modern age definition of "real"

cuz any crumb of any thought
better, now, no thought at all?
true, one could say
attention span of dysentery
this day, this play

of "keep all connected",
but really, mostly, out to sea, at bay
conditioned to accept the bullshit
as a bouquet of flowers,
chant "i like it this way"..

land of "lay down and take it"
and better if you can smile
while you fake it
the orgasm or
the "gee, that didn't hurt"
the moan without groan
to show appreciation, the worth

of sentiments tossed
like convenience store glossed
lips without the "sizzling quencher"
lives lived, "voids filled",
devoid of the divine, in the pursuit,
the adventure

of human relations
and soul exchange,
heart elations

flat line friendships
no real effort or work
just "happy to have the occasional
body around"
so the reality of how alone
we really are,
doesn't cause a convulsion,
then, in isolation we drown

so better to drown in the shallow
than the deep
flat line friendships,
the preferred crop to keep

watered with droplets
of aqua, so few
dehydration is dandy! now
like a soaker-head, fused

to the hose, up the nose
without the mouth,
no human voice given out

cuz flat line friendships
a phone call, please,
not what they're all about

that's like asking
to move in and marry
so dead, so "yesterday",
so much work,
so then strenuous, very!

easy nothing
is easy go
along for the ride
or be left behind, so

flat line friendships
they, "the now", soul nutrition
be happy!, not heartfelt
you've been given a morsel
so quit your starved bitchin'

cuz you can get used to 'em
to the point you feel full
like convincing yourself
watching "gma!"
isn't garbage bullshit,
soul dead, dreary and dull

flat line friendships
no high, no low
no challenge, no show

of anything, called everything
that makes one truly cherished
truly valued, treasured gift
deep friendships,
they've been set adrift..

to wither on the vine
of who's got the time?
who's got the care?
if it's not all about me,
i can't feel it, so there!

keep telling yourself
It's "all natural now", "it's fine"
god knows the sound
of a phone ring these days
that "ding-a-ling", "damn them!"
sends chills up the spine

what happened to the heart of
real love?

in it's "true friend 'til the end"
form

well,
it seems, it's

flat lined _______________.


bowen hart roselli
8 september 2020
ringwald love 

prone to bleed
filled with need
dark thoughts feed
self doubts breed

thoughts repeat
loops defeat
fears compete
desires, discrete

rage aroused,
his "well endowed"
not great in crowds
fuck, get me out...

hold me down
let me drown
give you a crown
your mind renowned

i like aggression
so much repression
my life's confession
it's not depression

deep sadness, destined
what's north, south, west again?
feel like I'm soaked in sin
that started way back when...

divine obsessions
memory regressions
love the man who questions
he's good with directions

he drives with confidence, strong
his glances deep and long
to me its right, but wrong
these feelings him, i belong

i know i don't but do
to him it's nothing new
he doesn't care, but does
and it just is, because...

i can't control my heart
and here, he is now, huge part
filled, top, of brilliant art
i dream one day, new start

to be with him again
pray not "the why", but "when"
a new beautiful, bright begin
one this time without an end..

he is my favorite friend
he's got such incredible skin
pale, clean, he shines within
my resolve, he wears it thin

its not a crime, it's love
it shined, like from above
just fit like hand in glove
no need for push, pull, shove

in the end, he's just my mate
he showed up one day, fate
never imagined this, my state
of overcome, his "hold", so great

doesn't matter, to him, does?
it, matter, just because
it's what i feel and was
so alive amongst him, buzz

of lights, there electric hum
don't think i was ever numb
around his mind, heart, become
like heaven on earth found, done

as in, I'm good to go
couldn't hope for more, his grow
bond with me, blessed and so
all the things he taught me, shown

here now, this heart, so spilled
yeah, you could call me killed
as in so fully filled
with him, his "know" instilled

ingrained, like rain, he pours
washed up to sea, his shore
one day I'll open the door
and he'll be here once more

this, just, "it's me", you see
this dream, reality
all now, It's him, i see
the one, i do believe...

so sweet, yet dangerous
don't know why, maybe because
he's got my heart, his hand
but doesn't need it, man

of magic, girls, his way..
yet still, I'll always stay
who cares what it's called, ok
some things we cannot say

but his beautiful i will not stray
and it makes me happy, days
and nights, of endless dreams

this, the ballad, heart, his
it seems.....

moments, self doubt, free and clear
i now know what it means, bigger picture
beyond me,

no fear.


bowen hart roselli
10 september 2020
ringwald love

sleeping,
then sensitive to
the stimuli of you

that's all that happened
nothing extraordinary
if that's what you believe,
then its true

i am just a reflection of you
a whiteboard of projection
make of me, what you will
blind, imbued..

with realities of time
it's passage, the fade
your face in my mind
discount, discontinue
the delicate divinity
of a rare occurrence,
a kind...

of "something", somehow
different, because it was
but what does that matter, mean
if all is just a moment,
lived, torn through,
then left unexamined, unloved

in the forego of the flower
for pursuits of a personalized power
that lets us lessen,
the "lift up" of the light
to continue, chaotic,
the frenetic ever faster feeling, fight

against the tender, against the tides
the want for us,
release from the shadows,
we hide

your stimuli
simply ignited
somehow, so sweetly
skin sensations,
i could not, here, deny, then

i simply shined
and shared it, before you
your stimuli resistant
averse to mine
wrong limbed, your insistence

true, or not
the simplest explanations
for some of us, the demand, unmet
to vanquish the valiance
of the value, be forgot

easy, in the absolute
"of course",
we all, stimuli
in some forms,
another face before you,
no remorse

but that's on you,
just as what's on me
is your stimuli, I'm sensitive to
and the mark you've left
even though not replicated
me to you
i wouldn't change a single thing

as your stimuli, back
i sent it to you
a glowful gorgeous
an ember, a spark, awake, a light
honorable, anew

so what you take of it,
what you do
says only everything and nothing
all the same,
about the unknown in you

all your fears, all your forgets
all your need
for the denial of yesterday
in the name, the game
of what comes next...

"get it, got it"
your stimuli stressed
and mine got stuck
those rooms, those days
with you, all that mattered
was your presence, not so much
anything more than that,
or what came next...

so different worlds,
along with different limbs
experienced similar ends
but strikingly dissimilar begins

some sit still
and some, they run
some get lost in realizations
of one
while others they move,
ever faster in "on"

never stopping, take heed
the heart, the stimuli
of themselves or others
laid or left or lingering
inside

the love for the lie
or the lie for the love
preferences predicated
by the stimuli
we choose to forget, flourish
frown or focus

upon.


bowen hart roselli
1 october 2020
ringwald love

for as much as you do know
there is little that you don't
for as little as you do say
there is much that you won't

right time, right place
right linger, right trace
left sensual, left stardust
left touch, left deep thrust

of body and brain
primed, your primal penetrate
not in an actualized "mount", satiate
an introduction
to a divine longing state
you, somehow
the realization, my fate

but penetrate you did,
through me, "threw"
left here to investigate
what is me, what is you

looking for shadows
looking for clues
hoping, like sweet fuck, eden, hell
your inner devil delicately smiles,
shines, amused

crazy is, as receptors receive
the words you speak,
deep, they pierce,
i believe

and all the images of heaven
you inspire
based in beautiful, born of admire
they take me, totaled
in totality, taken
as if never quite before
was i awake,
until your electric, energetic awaken

further fucked and fallen, into you
there is nothing i can attempt,
leash removed

the one called love
and lust, soul combined
the one, so placed
by those mesmerizing
multi meaning meant eyes

doesn't have to be ugly
doesn't have to be defined
doesn't demand, be deconstructed
or picked apart,
what is, just was then..

placed inside
like nature to natural
not everything needs "a literal"
to make it real, exalted as factual

i need to get laid
bed perpetually, so perfectly made
real relations are messy
and that's you and me, trust me

but it's nothing weird
or wrong, exactly
it's just power, exchanged
and you got me, without
ever having to be "had"
as in have me

complicated stuff
but not so very complicated, really
if it's not you or he, they,
something will kill me

and someday
when it's all over and done
on my lips, "last breath"..
what is it?...the one...
thing i will long for,
live in "the after"

It's called the state of you
and all the feelings, fires, sensations
you brought forth...

the definition of rapture
encapsulated, and captured

the deepest of kisses
long, entwined, drenched
drown forever

you
the engulfing nakedness
i find
myself so involved
and so willingly, inescapably
tethered.



bowen hart roselli
3 september 2020
ringwald love 

follow your own path
reap the warring wrath
of opinion, opinion
all around
and the more insight you seek,
the more you drown

my fault,
auto-mode
needing to speak,
communicate those close
and that is what happens,
those who matter the most..

see and perceive you,
as they do
love and connection,
a gift
but you gotta know
when, trust yourself, alone
it's arms are outstretched, calling you

hardest thing in the world, let go
of all the things you think you know
questioning every move you make
worried, perceptions of others
the steps you take

then fire rises deep inside,
fuck "the need", fuck the tries
to be understood,
its about as possible
as "soft and moist" is wood

and so the war, is really within
and without, "the guy"
who the answers you seek,
but he will not bend

so you search and search,
emote and write..
what you hope,
be seen as beautiful things
but one can't control
how another reads, perceives..

and with silence, distance
comes a new kind of "destroy"
patience is a virtue,
but so, i guess, i feeling like a toy

to be wound and bound
pulled apart, back and forth
is this all a delusion?
some past life intrusion

i have no clue,
only missing pieces
to a puzzle, befuddled
that to which way
the pressure, releases...

trapped
or not
or simply
an occasional
moment of thought

welcome to a world,
a hundred ways, communicate
but all that means now,
the "oversaturate state"

push it all out,
as in away
and learn to focus
what most is..

important
essential
ignore, block out
all the inconsequential
that drowns us all,
all around, no escape..

cleanse the thoughts in your head
breathe and pray
and learn to breathe, bathe
in the simple silence of

wait.

for answers that may
or may never come
this body, this soul
all that I'll ever know..

this heart, this voice
is there a love to be reflected
"no choice"
as in fall in love with you too
and let one plus one
equal the incredible reality
of two

something, sadly
to the "easy come", easy goes
but to the alone, deep inside
we hold a pain that so few
embrace, seem to know

in the search, feel, awareness, divine
here is not a place,
that values it, valor
land of embittered and bastardized
time

dream, dream on
and shine, if you can
at the end of it all,
what lies left, in your hands?

memories, moments
so like magic, reigned down
simple things, unexpectedly
that made you feel you were wearing
a crown

of unbelievable love
it can happen here,
careful, the tendency to drown
but for the wings and wants
of angels
"no regrets" the attempts
however flawed,

you were found.

alive and impassioned
in a world that cannot understand you
welcome to the inside of self
we all have one, supposedly

and all you will ever be, see, know
in truth, is you
so learn to, for once, and finally

trust

yourself.

because the truth, the answers
you seek
come from him and you
alone and together
an experience
undefinable, unknown,
un-lived

by anyone else.



bowen hart roselli
30 july 2020
ringwald love 

 light leaks, the asylum i see


worn down by a world of people
that don't care
take your heart and strip it bare
like savages, ravaging on the little scraps that are left
leave you depleted, functionally bereft

I'm no "snowflake"
and I'm no "wuss"
and, no, i don't "crunch n munch"
on that thing "real men" eat,
ends in y, rest is puss

doesn't mean I'm not real
or "a man"
I'm just from the wired
to get fucked by one, clan

but that's where the similarities to
"my kind" end,
walking this life, "fucking freak"
signals, send

me, the awareness, i never quite fit
with anyone or anything
long enough to breathe, relax, sit
and just "let shit be"
feel secure in all i sense, see

what's that, i smell?
the embers burning,
"take a hike, bro", to hell
"and make sure once you get there,
you remember,
all you did to deconstruct, destroy, dismember"..

your own self,
for the expense of another
overpowered, overcome
by the "you offered it freely,
so i took it", energy of others

always with the dream, hope, wish
that I'd be seen, the same light, gift
i saw so "divinely damaged", in them

beauty is, as beauty perceives
love is as realized as the love it receives

it takes a believer to embrace a deceiver
like it takes a leash
to train a golden retriever

liars attract the truthful
like the candy man attracts the youthful
and you know what they say,
it's because "he can"
so careful, please, whose "hold",
your heart, hand

light leaks, the soul, speaks
imparts it's art, then, bleeds,
from the start...

the start of "something"
is it good, is it bad?
"mixed signal madness"
heightens the "happy",
then devours you, the sad

so I'm no weakling
I'm actually quite strong
to walk through fire, to try
to show, real love, real connection,
it's a "cherish", i abide

problem is, here,
the land of "excuse", and "run, hide"
when "unusual" is found,
the lengths of love, heart, inside

cuz if everyone's not like that
then there's surely something
wrong with me
lived out, lived through
and though lessons learned,
i remain committed to the asylum, i see

the one in which
bonds and "ships", do matter
friend kind, relation kind,
beyond all the lies and loss
the wounds, they seep,
but for you, the risk, it was worth
the here, after...

(because yes, i did feel,
what you call "magic", i call rapture)



bowen hart roselli
17 july 2020
ringwald love

life beyond me,
filled with mysterious
beautiful things
all the things my limited blindness
can't see
awareness, when beyond this psyche,
I'm freed

investigations
the difference,
the forest from the woods
the fine line between all the "cant'"
and the "could"

been one way
for far too long
opening the wounds
to release the poison,
get on...

acceptance, silence
internal predispositions
to self-doubt, hatred, violence
of the eviscerate my internal state
the fear, the worry i arrived, too late

to recognize, I'm "all in my head"
want, learn to live, before i am dead
learning to listen,
i can hear, listen, him
something in him, somehow speaks
to the thirsty soul,
there is life, sea of stars, beyond me

i never set out, goal
"I'm gonna see people, surroundings
in the negative,"
but reality, hardships, took,
yes, their toll
and "pin holed" the prism,
the telescope of sight, my soul

became from widescreen, panoramic
to something hyper-focused
on "survival mode", no dynamic
ability to see the magic, the wonder
as this scarring scope,
pulled me further inward, and under

the labyrinth, abyss
inner focused, within
all my pain, all my mistakes
all the "wrong path", darkened mistakes

oppressive worlds,
depressive swirls
of the ugly, the shame
an acute inability to thrive
amongst the opportunity, the game

just not my thing, not very good
as in terrible at navigating,
the "how to be" and
"ways of the would"
make it farther if i only could
get past the inherent awkward of me
beyond fractured psyche,
shifts, kaleidoscopic, engulfing
self-distrust, "set me free"

and...then..something..strange..
inherently sweet, nucleus good,
happened, changed

before i knew it, could see
what was happening
he came, arrived
to erase the words, the definitions
the limited perspectives,
rearranged

opened my eyes,
my landscape, self lies
so ingrained, so small, in their scope
brought forth, in his presence
some sort of "moved",
the teardrops whispered... hope

a feeling, vulnerability
i had long left behind
inward introspection
forever stuck, loops,
the past, in rewind

couldn't see much, called little
beyond "self"
not like i found,
amongst this beyond indescribably
beautiful man's dwell

not a god, just so touchingly human
present and sensitive and smart
multidimensional lumens
of light and fight and fearless
to be near this..

man, this wonder of quiet magic,
so powerful
the gift of life, not "things"
not anything,
more than the experience
of a connection, reciprocal
an alignment to the allowable

love.
of opening self
to the treasure, give pleasure
heart, one's inner being, to another
one who, soul essence,
is the "utter" in utterly
unlike any other

I'd ever witnessed, encountered
before
made all of my selfish, fade away
simply, sweetly not mean much
anymore

transcendence
there is so much left to explore..
delicate intricacies of trees, nature
water, open doors..

of mind and care
and newfound"nevers",
turned possible,in his "together",
a blindness, given sight,
strikingly naked, stripped bare

a desirous submission, clean
this engulfing feeling,
he, the worth, in need, hope to please,
opened, the skies, skin of sensual
soul healing

nothing untoward, revealing
a love like i have never quite known
It's real, it's alive
as more inside this transcendence
of tenderness shown..

he, the mystery, unfold
i could not have fathomed
could not have known
upon me, just near him

to the universe, enlightened
in him, i can feel it, if i let it
i am his, in that, i can feel him
like no other,
no, i am not here alone.

future, bright then.

if somehow he will, would
accept, embrace, allow this
there is no definition i can find for it
except, among, within his
extraordinarily beautiful...

bliss.

(this...just is...love, life, hope
masculine mesmerize, magic, heart)

transcendence


bowen hart roselli
27 july 2020
ringwald love