My favourite blackA Poem by Georgiana
He was dressed in my favourite black
The b***h was lost, proud and in white Her disciples helped her to lock me outside With the ice and hunger of the winter's night. Skin tight; her skin just covered Stroke my snowflake skin with your sharp icicle fingers Eugh: your smiles of blank capacious sky My frost woven blood always lingers. Your iris' strangle The helpless hopeless tiny piece that is me Or am I a wasp? I just wanted to lose her presence He was the only thing that I could see. The b***h was dressed in a dull bright white He was dressed in my favourite black The only thing worth being locked out for Yet the only thing that I could lack © 2014 GeorgianaAuthor's Note
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