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Level 8

Since: Aug 08

Location hidden

#174 Jan 24, 2014
Facts are stubborn things.
Level 8

Since: Aug 08

Location hidden

#175 Jan 24, 2014
Adrian DeVine wrote:
<quoted text>
Dave, why are you now posting as a woman ?
That photo was used by Adrain Devine....and we all know that you aren't Beth
Sweetie Pie told me you are also Mr Wadds and Alan-Dale Lane, Ossie and David Charter.....

I repeat...facts are stubborn things.
Level 8

Since: Aug 08

Location hidden

#176 Jan 24, 2014
Laura Beffy wrote:
<quoted text>
Speaking of Love....
I love you so much
I can't live without you
My heart flutters everytime I see you post
My hands flutter in excitement
Hardly TYPING enough to write:
I love you, I love you ,I love you
There are not enough songs
that I can obsess on
that say I love you all day long
I never run out of my obsession for your faceless face
I can't wait till I see your ink
I love dreaming about you even though I do not know you
Lover that seems to fuck me through the ink
Emails are all I need
Your WORDS of TOUCH and LOVE are good enough
Phone calls second best to email sex
When will we ever meet ?
My internet faceless face that I do not know
I hope I am first in line
to all the profiles you possess
Surely it is me you love the best
Faceless, nameless ,foe
Told you..

you were going down...
Level 8

Since: Aug 08

Location hidden

#177 Jan 24, 2014
I hope you enjoyed the trip.

“Happy Thanksgiving ”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

My Love Bugs.

#178 Jan 24, 2014
One day my body will turn to ashes and dust but my love for you will never die, because I love you with my soul and my soul will live on and on till the end of time. I will be your shadow even when you cant see me any more. The brightness of my soulfeel love will illuminate your life forever. I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and I will love you even when I am gone..
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#179 Aug 12, 2014

It's the depth of night.
Not the color of the sky.
It's the length of silk.
Not the size of material.
It's the sorrow of death.
Not the sadness of the dead.
It's the thrill of pain.
Not the happiness of destruction.

It is poetry.
Not words.

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