with every touch down her heart,
she blossomed.
with every touch into her soul,
she breathed.
with a grab of a thorny rose,
she watched me curiously.
with a shot of a rose through her heart,
she cried.
with the thorns penetrating her veins,
she said, "you're my favorite heartache."
-n.d.
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blue | poetry ✓
Poetryhis name is blue. he's color blue. he thinks blue. he feels blue. he's always blue. ©aloeverasie2017
