FrecklesA Poem by devonThe flesh resting on my fingertip’s end Trace a path made just for me By orange battle wounds Brilliantly scattered, scattered, scattered, ‘Cross your cheeks. Remnants of a civil war Fought long ago, the sun now leaves Memories of your dotted skin’s defeat With a map for my lip’s sudden Lack of geography. © 2013 devonAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on January 8, 2013 Last Updated on January 8, 2013 Author
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