i want to feel
your hands in my hair,
and i want to hear
my name
tumbled from your lips
like sisyphus' boulder:
over and over again.
YOU ARE READING
she likes the color yellow
Poetrymy soul in poem form. i'm not a good poet, but i've learned to be vulnerable.
sisyphus
i want to feel
your hands in my hair,
and i want to hear
my name
tumbled from your lips
like sisyphus' boulder:
over and over again.
