The kitchen scissors met my hair,
before the bathroom mirror.
I had run out of cigarettes.
He didn't text back.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
The kitchen scissors met my hair,
before the bathroom mirror.
I had run out of cigarettes.
He didn't text back.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 01/11/2011]
