XIX.
you are sitting in the branches of a tree, swinging your legs back and forth like a pendulum.
i etch our names into the bark as you close your eyes and face the sky.
i pray that you never leave me
& wonder where you are.
B
YOU ARE READING
fifteen (XV)
Poetryi prick my finger on a rose in my garden. my blood is not red. i take the wind caressing my face as a silent apology. cover art made by doradorapuff on tumblr. [2015] thank you to everyone who shared with me these short poems as they were published...
