cigarettes burning through our fingertips
we fell in June
i was falling in July
by August i could call you mine
my denim jacket never felt warmer
like a heart made of rock; poetic armour
falling into June
i was falling by July
the summer were the days of nice
the late night sunset skies
whiskey on ice
betting our lives
on a roll of the dice
YOU ARE READING
kiss kiss, goodbye.
Poesia#1 PEAK IN THE METAPHORS CHART. i said kiss kiss, goodbye to the world i once lived in. i was a martyr for my dreams. i fell asleep to the beauty of my screams. poetry album seven. built on the feelings of mental health, dealing with coming into ad...
