put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you've been dying to read.
YOU ARE READING
deadroses || poetry
Poetry"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
micheal faudet
put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you've been dying to read.
