Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
The soft touch that hold displeasure
Yet so delicate and soft
Fingers mold in to a fist and the raw lungs you have
Unfold
So many morbid thoughts cloud my thoughts
Your fingers rest on my skin
I want more.
So much more.
Rose
Written by
Rose
274
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems