The perfect woman, in front of me
The perfect hair, dyed milk tea
The perfect dress, made of cotton
The perfect apples, never come rotten
The perfect eyes, glittering in the sun
The perfect legs, made to run
The perfect face, made to show sorrow
The perfect blood, that would be shown tomorrow
YOU ARE READING
If Only
PoetryAn adventure of rhyming poetry and strange openings, enjoy for all I have.
