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elsbeth-willisPoems
Your hands as white as skulls piled atop one another a tower on your lap ghostly mouth pursed empty eyes narrowed muted mutilated anticipated. My fleshy finger touches your bone cold cold cold. Peachy pink, my dreadful sink into your vacant stare.
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Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 11:21 AM UTC
Tea with a Corpse
Your hands as white as skulls piled atop one another a tower on your lap ghostly mouth pursed empty eyes narrowed muted mutilated anticipated. My fleshy finger touches your bone cold cold cold. Peachy pink, my dreadful sink into your vacant stare.
elsbeth-willis
Written by
elsbeth-willis
American
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 11:21 AM UTC
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