He watched her grow out her fingernails
Burn herself with cigarettes
Her scabs would heal and morph into gray dots on her dark flesh
She looked like a winter afternoon with a chance of showers
She was beautiful in her own way
The way books are beautiful stacked on shelves
The way trees can only be appreciated in forests
Her beauty was of many and of one.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
He watched her grow out her fingernails
Burn herself with cigarettes
Her scabs would heal and morph into gray dots on her dark flesh
She looked like a winter afternoon with a chance of showers
She was beautiful in her own way
The way books are beautiful stacked on shelves
The way trees can only be appreciated in forests
Her beauty was of many and of one.
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