I am soaking up her honey roots,
Waiting for them to pour down her face,
And wrap perfectly around each ear.
I want her eyes sculptured by her baby hairs and her cheeks to be pale and rosy
The pink lips she dances split and crack in the frost
And all I want to do is create a butterfly from mine to hers.
She's too warm,
I can't help but love a honey lady that's drowned my sorrows in her blood.
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Poems I Write in my Head by Rose De Glanville
PoetryRomance, hurt, and a hole in the gut. 16 personal poems of mine that nobody has seen, and are based off of my own hurt and personal experiences. Interpret them how you wish. I write in my head a lot of the time, I say tricky things that hardly make...