1″i sit under a tree.frosty air blows my hair in the wind,and the smell of sundew on grass hits my nose..the mourning doves singing their whimsical melodies as they fly above.I look over at you,and see’s a couple of goons staring at you,whistling,and making innapropriate gestures with their body,pointing to you,and then their groins. My pupils slim in anger,as i walk over to you,and wrap my arms around your waist from behind.. “Mine~..” i whisper to the goons,kissing the side of your neck..
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