Do not make me love you,
the smell of your skin on mine in the dark
or the courage of your words
I do not bloom in the spring
nor do I find my feet buried deep in the ocean during the summer
My hands have cracked from last winter's cold
And not even you—a boy with eyes of fire—can warm them
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
Do not make me love you,
the smell of your skin on mine in the dark
or the courage of your words
I do not bloom in the spring
nor do I find my feet buried deep in the ocean during the summer
My hands have cracked from last winter's cold
And not even you—a boy with eyes of fire—can warm them
a.u.
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