We breathe the same air and you want to bottle it. If you could hold everything I am you would welcome me with open arms,
By elisha aflalo5 years ago in Poets
you might look out the window and see a sin dancing in the streets his knobby finger pointing at you beckoning for you to come closer
I spill salt, so I throw some over my shoulder. Behind my back you lick the salt from your wounds. Wounds. Now, your veins
three kings weeping the kings sit upon the hill watching you, their knight. secretly, hidden between the folds in their robes