heart strings
Our eyes meet, my beat unsteady,
But my heart is ready.
This separationdesperation
Yanks on my strings,
P U L L S A N D P U L L S
Until we are one again,
Fill this space within
(with sin)
Butterflies rise, meeting your eyes
The deepest blue, so true.
Your hand in mine,
Our love in time
(http://www.underclassauthors.com/poetry.htm)
1 yorum:
Separation reminds me of
Death in every language
Desperation is Chekhov
Writing for a sandwich
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