Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
A quick sketch from a few weeks ago. I kind of miss Inktober but it's nice to take a break from ink. It's given me time to think about the next direction I want to take with my art & I'm pretty excite (Poison Bottle Sketch)
What I thought of influence in my youth aside from my grandparents and a few family favorites. Influential Vanity is cruel and brutal to its victim. I wept for many in my pillow to keep the silent scream in my chest hidden.