not my kind of girlA Poem by winter;lyra
this name stirs my last strength
before a knife sits close to my neck this one, this name, this sage this girl leaves my war sour this internal sorrow that meets this ethereal touch she's not my kind of girl she's a big foul mouthed winged male peacock and she's the last I'll love before the closing gunshot © 2018 winter;lyra |
Stats
56 Views
Added on May 12, 2018 Last Updated on May 12, 2018 Author
|