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broookePoems
when love comes, i hope he waits. (in that spacce) that by then my door will be open, and the house will be clean, that he will wander through the living room for the first time since I had been broken, when he couldn't even find his way through the mess-- a walking phenomenon gliding through the kitchen and out the backdoor, when you come, love, and the backdoor slams i am knee deep in dried leaves and **** wielding nothing but yard tools and not my heart chained to the end of a virge nothing but the elegant vengance towards wasps and gardner snakes both briefly carrying heiligenschein against the grass but you will find i am made of sweat and warm lemonade a pair of knees embedded with pebbles and clover leaves, love, bring your tools, bring your faith, the flint only i can knap and I, only you can spark.
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Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
Warm Lemonade.
when love comes, i hope he waits. (in that spacce) that by then my door will be open, and the house will be clean, that he will wander through the living room for the first time since I had been broken, when he couldn't even find his way through the mess-- a walking phenomenon gliding through the kitchen and out the backdoor, when you come, love, and the backdoor slams i am knee deep in dried leaves and **** wielding nothing but yard tools and not my heart chained to the end of a virge nothing but the elegant vengance towards wasps and gardner snakes both briefly carrying heiligenschein against the grass but you will find i am made of sweat and warm lemonade a pair of knees embedded with pebbles and clover leaves, love, bring your tools, bring your faith, the flint only i can knap and I, only you can spark.
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
broooke
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broooke
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
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