vanilla extract in her silky lips,
perfectly cut hand warmers, specially knitted for his hands,
fake-fair skin,
syrup mixed with vanilla and strawberries,
beats thump between their ears,
a heart worth the globe,
pretty photoshoots,
messy, knotty hair, their hair tangled up together,
liquid rings - a liquid (solid) smooth mess,
Vivienne Westwood necklaces wrap around their collarbones,
bullets from the: ground, ceiling and centre,
a small caramel latte,
yoshimoto nara sends a small invite,
aswell as the leg warmers on the heated calves,
sweet butter-cupped foundation nests,
on their skin-tiny white needles,
a humic substance lingers,
stop, the bullets, perching at her skin,
a small pearl over hands.
! My poem !
YOU ARE READING
nymphs
Poesía'u told me as u cried- fairytales are just a lie' :: where i share my poems ! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
