The love bite on my inside knee Hangs sentences singed Through silken ribbon Within your grip Every fold set By my fingertips Lingers perfumed smoke In a taste for your skin Inspiration A cut on my knee, so fine to wonder how it happened, burned in a barely there line of red after a midnight bath. Drying my hair, I still had the aftermath of hand wash to tend before climbing in bed.
Days We Count - 12:58amPST/MON/04/15/2024
Days We Count - 12:58amPST/MON/04/15/2024
Days We Count - 12:58amPST/MON/04/15/2024
The love bite on my inside knee Hangs sentences singed Through silken ribbon Within your grip Every fold set By my fingertips Lingers perfumed smoke In a taste for your skin Inspiration A cut on my knee, so fine to wonder how it happened, burned in a barely there line of red after a midnight bath. Drying my hair, I still had the aftermath of hand wash to tend before climbing in bed.