Words slip into a language the way white-green vines slide between slats in a fence. — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
Missing someone is like hearing a name sung quietly from somewhere behind you. Even after you know no one is there, you keep looking… — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
“And if the air is chilly she feels it - in fact, if you put your hand on her arm you would know she… — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
“...so she stays there remembering the warmth of honey between her toes, with her blood not humming, with the sound of the name almost… — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
Words slip into a language the way white-green vines slide between slats in a fence. — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
“Some days I can go nearly an hour without thinking of the taste of your mouth.” — Tim Seibles Copy Share Image
