I would plant your seeds in my throat,
and let a garden of you grow.Water them every day as due,
admire the scent of you.One day, they will die.
It will happen, don't deny.However they will die suffocating me,
and that is absolutely ravishing.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
this is the dirty truth.
PoetryAs if rope could bind my wrists together so perfectly, so could this.