Dear dizzy fall day from this time of the year, even if it seems to be the season of the witch, I dunno what kind of strategy are you trying. To be accurate, I didn't imagine our dating be so grayish and cold and without your golden and brassy and cuddled and warm sunshades. Fortunately, I was inspired to put on me some perfume with sprightly notes, enough for avoiding any wrong situation, also to reinvent another story, with each part of your sun, inclined on me, to look shinier. Guess that could be one of your deep excuses, in your hurry to see me, and is accepted. Yet, do whatever's necessary to fix up your mood. Even implore a competent one for a prescription… — P.S. — (Do it AˢSᵒᵒⁿAˢPᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ). Winter knocks.

hello, lovely dreamer, — you're lost in the realm of my wildest mind; the mystery is dressed up in simplicity; the cigar, — doesn't have to be understood; smoke it; love me; you're doing good; your love is hot; you got me in you;