I keep a cool front ruin
With no trace of kisses that left resin.
My red bite meant to kiss you
But I fell through like a Rock
I breathe out ashes
from the retired dragon in the story books,
you know the ones made with overstocked pages of gold.
And so I'm told you're happy
By a picture. You happy,
I picture
Without second thoughts
Without me.
So maybe my grin isn't as curved
as the cartoon from the birthday card I sent you
Because that smile you wore made my stomach hurt
Even made my phone sick.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
I keep a cool front ruin
With no trace of kisses that left resin.
My red bite meant to kiss you
But I fell through like a Rock
I breathe out ashes
from the retired dragon in the story books,
you know the ones made with overstocked pages of gold.
And so I'm told you're happy
By a picture. You happy,
I picture
Without second thoughts
Without me.
So maybe my grin isn't as curved
as the cartoon from the birthday card I sent you
Because that smile you wore made my stomach hurt
Even made my phone sick.
mish mosh of a few poems I've written before.
