If hope is the thing with feathers,
then it holds your face,
holding the dusk,
in the thick
wilderness of love.
In the thick
wilderness of love,
you coil me into
your ***** of one thousand
roses, gushing like smoke
from your lips.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
If hope is the thing with feathers,
then it holds your face,
holding the dusk,
in the thick
wilderness of love.
In the thick
wilderness of love,
you coil me into
your ***** of one thousand
roses, gushing like smoke
from your lips.
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