A mind for Mensa her body, a work of art— sixty-two tattoos
As the sun opens her sleepy eyes to the dawn, Robins feast on worms.
Doesn’t need a name the flashing neon light is all you need to know
You. You worship her as if she were a goddess. Medusa, maybe…
I promised, I know. but ten years is a long time to wait for “maybe.”
So deeply in love they didn’t even notice the bed bugs and fleas
Sweet magic moments between twilight and darkness; when we’re together.
Notifications
