My paint pools on the page,
It splashes onto my arm,
Avoiding the risen silver lines,
Soon forgotten.
My pen scratches the page,
My speed causing my sleeve to rise,
The table cool to the risen silver lines,
Soon forgotten.
My shirt lifted as our kiss deepened,
You ran you hands down my arms,
Over the risen silver lines,
Never forgotten.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Monologues.
PoetryThis is just poems and Monologues I write, I've just starting writing and I am 14 years old so please no hate! :D
