Mar 2015
My ribcage rises with thoughts of you,
And the breath of disappointment,
Escapes my lungs.
My palms are bruised,
My eyelashes are heavy,
My bed is cold,
I miss you.
And the breath of disappointment,
Escapes my lungs.
My palms are bruised,
My eyelashes are heavy,
My bed is cold,
I miss you.
