I miss your wrists;
and the way they unhinge
at the cliff edge of my shoulders.
I miss standing breath to breath,
close enough to feel your heart
making music against my chest.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
I miss your wrists;
and the way they unhinge
at the cliff edge of my shoulders.
I miss standing breath to breath,
close enough to feel your heart
making music against my chest.
