Your name tastes like honey and peaches
It curls onto your tongue first
And then smacks your lips together
And brings it into a smile.
On mornings when the Sun
Feels hit by the final dawn
I burst into flames once again
Rejuvenated by a bond of constellations
Bound together by just enough muscle.
You. You. You. You. You. You.
YOU ARE READING
Misted Thoughts
PoésieA resultant of the cacaphony of the head, heart and mind. A collection of words, that I myself am unable to fathom. Go ahead at your own risk.
