When she laughs and smiles,
I try to count the freckles
That sprinkle over her porcelain skin.
Like stars,
I'm unable to count them.
Somehow every time I see you,
I still try to count those
little dots that you dislike so much,
But I somehow love.
YOU ARE READING
Air Bubbles And Paper Cuts
PoetryJust some things I never had the guts to say out loud. (Updated daily??)
