The white milk dribbled down Thornveil’s sharp teeth. Fresh red, stood bright against her light fur, vibrant and taunting, as if a fragile string was dangling…
By Hanaa Saleem6 months ago in Fiction
It isn’t real Never was, never will be It’ll start out fine—more than fine really with sweet stolen rose buds
By Hanaa Saleem6 months ago in Poets
