The Epitome of Grace or is it?

Eye lashes casting shadows on her face; Perfectly poised in elegance, Lips pulled up in a smile, She reaches for the holster. Clad in fair & lovely, attired in yards, Fueling her feminity, looking as docile as ever, she stands; the gun feels powerless next to her ferocity. The strut and sway, sashay; Swinging it…

Why am I doing this?

I have always been a hungry writer; starving in fact, and when I say that, it doesn’t only mean that I am longing to write very often, but also that I am quite literally hungry, all-day every-day. Before elaborating on myself and giving in to the needs of your ever-ceasing attention span, let me come…