"The warm shades of peach that tint your cheeks are my favorite color and I can't help but fall in love with the way your soft lips part into that gap-toothed smile.
The cold shades of grey that slither from your tongue leave me breathless and I don't ever want to be anything but yours."
With her lips pressed to my jaw she whispered her wedding vows into my pores.
I suppose she forgot that this was, in fact, a funeral.
YOU ARE READING
Academy Of American Bullshit
PoetryCollection of poetry, parts of short stories, and the occasional rant written by an artist who is angrier than she'd like to admit.
