To love you is to burn myself
Not just in words
But with fire from a dying stove
Trace a line of aftershave
On my wrist
Hoping to scar the places where
You love me the most.
Not just in words
But with fire from a dying stove
Trace a line of aftershave
On my wrist
Hoping to scar the places where
You love me the most.
I nominated you for an award :)
ReplyDeletehttp://cupandchaucer.wordpress.com/2012/06/06/an-award/