All the flowers wilt when he touches them
And his smile was ment to devour suspicion
He uses the word love as a key
To lock away his shameI remember his hands rising up under the black sheets
And Tairing away at meAnd all the flowers wilting inside of me
~brokenglasseye
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Defective Product(Complete).2
PoetryPoems by a defective humman searching for an outlit threw poetry.