*Just a short poem I kind of popped out when texting my friend
~*~
If you want me, you better fucking show me
Because my scars can't wait for your touch to heal
Because those scars that make the letters of your name
Can't heal with you sprinkling salt
In every wound you inflicted
My heart still beats in your hands
and you can keep the infected thing.
YOU ARE READING
12 a.m. short stories
Short StoryA collection of different stories to read wth a warm cup of coco and a cozy blanket. Or, maybe not. Warning: Feels may be tugged.
