I dance
When his cold hands
Meets my burning skin
And I sing
The words he whispers
In my ear
Because his soul
Owns my breath
- meet me
YOU ARE READING
Shattered glass
Poetry［Highest ranking: #15］"Perhaps 'it wasn't meant to be' was our meant to be" he says as he chugs down yet another drink. She looks at him and rolls her eyes, "I wonder when your organs will give up on you too".
