The way you lay,
Against me is enchanting.
But I want to be by myself;
Your touch eventually feels
like thorns really. I made love
to this past, thinking us combined be great.
Substantial like the queen of these sweet
jewels. They sit around my neck nonchalantly
although your meaning to them -
had made them thirsty.
Yet you still try to eat me down with fancy riches
and so-called extravagant allure.
Well, I won’t hum no more because
since the beginning of our song was never fun.
YOU ARE READING
La Coiffure
PoetryAllons-y! Down a saccharine trail; why? I may ask what it will bring. Does the past have a history; Where's the visionary input? On our clothes, in our hair. We as women seem to forget the boon that set us forward- our glamorous minds never cease...
