Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2020
i beg my lungs not to let go
as they hold in the million scents that make up
you

i wish your smell was like muscle memory
always coming back to the tips of my fingers

like those songs i still know how to play on the violin
that movie wasn't long enough, blue eyes.
basil
Written by
basil  20/they/them/the moon
(20/they/them/the moon)   
188
     basil, Gwendolyn Alaine and efni
Please log in to view and add comments on poems