Moon, come kiss my eyes.
Let the stars do their work where
my beauty's meant to mean.
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.
I'm So Sure
Moon, come kiss my eyes.
Let the stars do their work where
my beauty's meant to mean.
