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olive-richardsonPoems
i trace my fingers down your back and plant seeds for spring the roots of your hair tainted golden in the morning sun you rise like a kite then fall suffocating my every breath i tenderly slip my hands into the vines of your fingers growing around my waist and binding to my ribs your eyes deep and warm melting my every movement
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Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
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i trace my fingers down your back and plant seeds for spring the roots of your hair tainted golden in the morning sun you rise like a kite then fall suffocating my every breath i tenderly slip my hands into the vines of your fingers growing around my waist and binding to my ribs your eyes deep and warm melting my every movement
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olive-richardson
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
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