Where her fingers fit hollowly around her wrist.
Where her hair is a blonde mist.
Where her chest doesn't reach the shirt.
Where her thighs touch under the fraile skirt.
Where her heart heaves with love.
Where her head is an unerved dove.
Where her skin is not scarred.
Where her mouth is not barred.
When she has no marks.
When she is with no hearts.
Where she is with no rememedy.
That's where I'll be, ready.
YOU ARE READING
The Poet. | SELECTED WORKS.
PoetrySelected works of mine, consists of Poetry, Short Stories, Quotes and anything else my mind comes to think of. ________________________ MAY HAVE TRIGGERS. READ AT OWN RISK.
