Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2016
(2)
THE SMALL OF MY BACK YEARNS FOR YOUR TOUCH, MY HANDS CRAVE TO TOUCH YOUR HAIR, BUT I CAN'T SEEM TO SHAKE THE IDEA THAT YOU'RE A DISTANT GHOST AND I CAN'T GET OUT OF THIS FOG
can you take the gun away from my temples?
arcane
Written by
arcane  california
(california)   
413
   ryn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems