Natalie, Terrace Pond. Circa 2013. 

Susan at The Whiskey Hole. 

July, you always keep it real. 

Defining summer. 

When I close my eyes I see you, no matter where I am, I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines. I’m with your ghost again, it’s a shame about the weather, I know soon we’ll be together, and I can’t wait till then. 


Burning down the night. Shooting bullets at the moon. 

I’d fall to pieces without the people I love. Regardless the amount of hope or despair it all means nothing with them. Nothing but gratitude for the anchors.