The smoke fills
lungs and pages
pressed
In ink
between lips
And the satisfaction
Of feeling something else
No, someone else
With their hands in my hair
And the feel of skin
Pressed against mine
And my mom caught us,
"I know why you wanted me to leave"
I won't tell her that
He ****** me on her couch
And right there on the
Living room floor
As the sun came up
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
The smoke fills
lungs and pages
pressed
In ink
between lips
And the satisfaction
Of feeling something else
No, someone else
With their hands in my hair
And the feel of skin
Pressed against mine
And my mom caught us,
"I know why you wanted me to leave"
I won't tell her that
He ****** me on her couch
And right there on the
Living room floor
As the sun came up
