Your mouth is pomegranate, saccharine.
Your body drowns in its golden hour gleam.
I'd die to give you the kiss of space and a dream,
but on which lips, I won't say.
YOU ARE READING
PERCHED PARCHED BUTTERFLY
PoetryYour voice is the paint I take to the sky, splattering it all over, so they can all know you're nigh.
NSFW
Your mouth is pomegranate, saccharine.
Your body drowns in its golden hour gleam.
I'd die to give you the kiss of space and a dream,
but on which lips, I won't say.
