My fingers get tangled
Between the fiery strands
Of her hair,
The strings of my heart
Restitched in cross-pattern arrays,
A web laced with black nail polish
And a deep, humbling green
That rolls through my body,
Much like the shock of chills do
When her lips brush against my own.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
My fingers get tangled
Between the fiery strands
Of her hair,
The strings of my heart
Restitched in cross-pattern arrays,
A web laced with black nail polish
And a deep, humbling green
That rolls through my body,
Much like the shock of chills do
When her lips brush against my own.
