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l-scott-1Poems
Stuck on the apple; the map, the watch. Though less than worse before. I grieve for the ghost; the writer, the lover. Though never this nor that. Over it and over again, Throw out the hope; the pity, the spite. Though they won’t stop growing. For this reason I am sure, I know little of love.
0
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Hymn
Stuck on the apple; the map, the watch. Though less than worse before. I grieve for the ghost; the writer, the lover. Though never this nor that. Over it and over again, Throw out the hope; the pity, the spite. Though they won’t stop growing. For this reason I am sure, I know little of love.
l-scott-1
Written by
l-scott-1
American
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
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