The first gasp for air,
it wasn’t you holding me
as we danced under stars
It was my heart
under attack.
The sweet coppery blood
that pooled on my tongue
as I cried out in pain
so only the
dead could hear.
The seed was there first. Before the roots knew how deep they would reach. Before the stem knew how to follow the sunlight. Before the flo...
No comments:
Post a Comment