1 minute read
chapped lips, burnt hair
By Tate Singleton
Staying inside was always my style
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it took the world caving in
to materialize a smile,
haunted by her glances
and the stars she reminds me of...
-
Oh, I feel the moon on me
and she whispers in my ear
that her hands could never be
the cradle my mother made me
-
I love her still
chapped lips and burnt hair
I tell her that someday
heaven will love us the same
despite the lack of roses
placed upon our graves
