❒ His eyes,
They drive me wild
The way they shine like
Copper pennies in the afternoon
Sunlight, his lips, and the way they
Curve at the sides of his face, his jet
Black looks, soft and disheveled, he’s
The one with the most purest face of an angel,
But, baby, my beloved one; your heart got sharp teeth.
YOU ARE READING
Stranger Tales
PoetryI've spent my old days making up pretty stories. I was a sailor navigating the oceans of sorrow of a heartbreak; stranger tales tells the reader about sorrows turned into poetry and how those experiences change my perspective of seeing love. In my c...
