To Love,
Don't touch my hand. Don't touch the soul of the skin I swore I left. My mind will loose. My thoughts will shatter. And the promises made by the pinky finger will fade. And the indefinite infinite with the ring finger will tremble. My middle finger cannot take lies. My index finger points everything back to me. The thumb, it turns down. So don't touch my hand. Don't touch bare skin that I left for me.
YOU ARE READING
Random Letters
DiversosI couldn't say that what I write is real. Sometimes they are, sometimes they just aren't. The random letters became the purest of me. The rawest of my thoughts put into words for people that may be real, or an imagination of this creative mind.
