jenniewren (J.W. Bouwman) > Writing | WritersCafe.org

i drift in your arms surrounded by the armour of passion i drink the wee hours from your lips and smell the smoke of love upon ..

there are dreams that seem.. too real too true, to not have been lived before and that corner of my soul feels too complete to have ever belong..

smoky crisp smell of leaves crunching satisfactorily underfoot vibrant colours of flame kicked up with every step green verdancy slowl..

i walk through the grocery aisles half-filled basket in hand when the scent of freshly ground gourmet coffee (in exotic flavours from faroff l..

sitting in a little room containing the miniscule detritus of one young man's life i watch a bead of sweat form and slide down the smooth sk..

there exists, inside me, an ache that i live with every day now a hole in the corner of the pocket of my soul through which i have..

i miss the warmth of love... the open palm upon my cheek that says.. "you are of me you are cherished and whole and perfect as you are" ..

i see the light of your soul twinkling within the gloaming providing warmth inside the chill of the stormiest night to come so even if..

what are these thoughts i have of you? what are these thoughts? what are thoughts? what is this cerebral bond we share - fused b..

in quiet moments i sit alone one finger tracing the lines engraved upon my palm following each trail mindlessly but with a hidden ..