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Jacquelyn Audrey Whiston
Poems
Apr 2013
Sore
My face,
Sore.
My lips,
Warm.
The wrinkles
Will come
If I continue seeing
you because
All you make me do
Is smile.
You held my hand,
Called me your darling,
And planted your lips
On mine.
I'm not sure what changed
But babe,
We're in our prime
❤
Written by
Jacquelyn Audrey Whiston
20/F/Ohio
(20/F/Ohio)
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