Charm her. Steal her. Break her
The past you had
The ones you tossed
Pretend it's not my fear
Neither do I volunteer
My heart is yours
Destined to be next in line
Charm me. Steal me. Break me
Leave me vulnerably in the dumps,
Who's next?
Part of the song I was composing
inspired by the selection series
YOU ARE READING
Are Loving: Present Progressive
PoetryWith her fingertips, she traced the smooth, darkened skin under his eyes. "Eyebags," she noted. "I've been thinking," he murmured, "of you. The shadow of my thoughts is the ink which stains them." She paused and gazed right into those distant...
